<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>snowglobe's broke by novalotypo</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730074">snowglobe's broke</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/novalotypo/pseuds/novalotypo'>novalotypo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Xenoblade Chronicles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crack, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Future Connected, Xenoblade Chronicles Spoilers, sequence break by simultaneously running away and directly at your problems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:09:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/novalotypo/pseuds/novalotypo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“How did you get here,” Vanea demands, a lot more hostile than Tyrea’s used to, “and of all the many valuable, defunct pieces of machinery in Agniratha, why did you choose to raid the ether accelerator? <em>Why are you still standing in the chamber?</em>”</p>
  <p>Shulk shuffles his feet but makes no attempt to move. “It’s... kind of a long story?”</p>
  <p>“I have time,” Vanea says sharply. </p>
  <p>“Well, this should be fun,” Tyrea mumbles, though clearly not quietly enough, because now Vanea’s giving her the evil side-eye. “Awesome. Wonderful. Fall in, team. Let’s tell this story exactly how it stands.”</p>
</blockquote>In which Shulk, Melia, and Tyrea come to the unfortunate realization that spacetime is a lot more fragile than it seems, and doing the right thing while going fast is seriously a pain.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Melia Ancient | Melia Antiqua &amp; Shulk, Melia Ancient | Melia Antiqua &amp; Talco | Tyrea, Shulk &amp; Talco | Tyrea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. shake with caution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote 40k in a week and it's all self-indulgent nonsense of the typical variety, complete with time travel and fever-dream chaos. witness as i force post future connected shulk, melia, and tyrea to speedrun xenoblade chronicles, because i love them. the two other people reading this: thank you and i'm sorry</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div><p>Melia is ninety, going on ninety-one. This is a good, albeit surprising fact, given her life closely resembles a dumpster fire. </p><p>Melia also wakes up in her private chambers in Alcamoth. This is a significantly more surprising fact for several reasons.</p><p>She takes a short moment to stare blankly at her hands. Flexes them. </p><p>Hm. It isn’t very promising that she’s missing quite a few scars and calluses, or that her hands look very eighty-eight instead of almost-ninety. </p><p>Now, Melia doesn’t want to point any fingers, but the last time something so ridiculous happened that the entire world fell apart and had to be manually rebuilt, she beat a god over the head with her staff. So perhaps she’s not pointing, but she’s certainly gesturing. Upward. Rudely.</p><p>In any case, it is perhaps not Melia’s most eloquent decision to throw herself out the window of her chambers at three in the morning. </p><p>She truly feels terrible crushing garden flowers beneath her. Horrible, really. She has nothing but the highest of respect for horticulturists. But she’s done worse, and she most certainly has had worse, so she chalks it up as one of her less comprehensible ideas and runs until she’s all but blind from transporter flash and stowed away safely atop the Syrath Lighthouse.</p><p>“What a situation,” Melia tells herself, wildly avoiding the shouting guards and pretending as if she isn’t two seconds away from a panic attack.</p><p>Time travel will do that to you, she reasons.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Shulk would really love a break. Just a single break. Just one. Is that too much to ask for? </p><p>He’d love to discuss the finer details with whatever sad excuse of a god that’s currently lording over their lives. And would you look at that—he’s dead! And Shulk killed him! Nobody to blame but himself, really. Every bad decision he makes can’t even be pinned on an omnipotent megalomaniac. This is just one more reason why Shulk defends self-hatred as a respectable personality trait.</p><p>Or, to recontextualize, he’s <em>supposed</em> to be dead. </p><p>Never a good sentence to think.</p><p>In any case, waking up in the Weapons Development Lab with the Monado humming merrily away doesn’t do much for Shulk’s nerves. </p><p>This, in turn, leads to the rather unfortunate conclusion that the impromptu god removal surgery Shulk had a while back has decided not to exist anymore, and that pesky little god is now free to traipse around in Shulk’s brain. Because time travel. Wonderful.</p><p>“I feel like throwing up in the corner,” Shulk says contemplatively, then spends the next fifteen minutes heaving into his hands. </p><p>When he’s done, he breaks into the Natural Studies Lab, furiously sets a Piranhax free, hacks apart the fish tank, and slaps together a respectable glass containment chamber. </p><p>He might be crying a little while all this is happening. His nerves are shot so bad, and he can’t even take a nap and pretend he’s doing great. Clearly something terrible has happened and he needs to fix everything immediately.</p><p>Meanwhile, the Monado buzzes away like a homicidal butter knife. Shulk glares. Then he shoves the thing into the glass sleeve with a few books acting as a physical buffer, hastily ties a few leather straps over the entire contraption, and flees into the night. </p><p>He thinks people might be shouting after him. He knows he needs to sleep. He absolutely needs to discuss this problem with someone as reasonable as himself. </p><p>…He thinks Melia might be awake this time of night.</p><p>The trip to Alcamoth isn’t the shortest trek, but if Shulk’s hunch is right (which it unfortunately always is), Melia will also be appropriately concerned about this current crisis and meet him halfway. </p><p>Of all people Shulk could’ve chosen to burn all of Bionis down with, Melia is definitely one of the best. She won’t tell him it’s a bad idea, for one.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The downsides of sprinting away from home in a wild, delirious panic consist of being completely unprepared for travel, stuck in nightclothes, and armed with a staff better suited for pointing at diagrams than skewering monsters. </p><p>The upsides... surely there are upsides, but Melia’s too upset to think of any now.</p><p>Fortunately, Nopon are strange and powerful creatures that recognize a good trade when they see one. So Melia sheds her pitiful staff and instead dons a respectable set of travel gear. She then bribes the travelling merchants not to say a word to anyone with miscellaneous pocket weight. Tyrea’s occasional criminal tendencies really are quite helpful sometimes.</p><p>Sneaking around Frontier Village is difficult but doable. Melia avoids Riki’s house with frantic fervour. She beelines for the Archeology Centre.</p><p>Wunwun looks frankly like he wants nothing to do with her at all, which is fair. Then again, Wunwun also looks like he wants everything to do with funds. Which is something Melia might be able to figure out. So. </p><p>“I require assistance,” she tells Wunwun. “I am aware of the currently financial situation of the Archeology Centre, and as heir to the imperial throne, I would be more than willing to provide you with the adequate funds to continue your research in exchange for your aid in my current... predicament.”</p><p>Wunwun stares distractedly at the satchel of coins in Melia’s hand. “Wunwun like gold,” he says dreamily.</p><p>“Wunwun like research too, yes?”</p><p>“Very much like research,” he quickly agrees. “But why Bird Lady so covert-like? Wunwun think Bird Lady look very suspicious. Should talk to Chief Dunga. Exchange sound more legal that way.”</p><p>Melia quickly thinks back to the disaster that was her last expedition into Makna. “Let’s keep this between you and me,” she insists, setting another bag of gold onto the table.</p><p>Wunwun more or less folds in half. “Pleasure doing business with Bird Lady,” he says gleefully, raising a wing-flap to shake Melia’s hand. </p><p>Melia can’t even be too sad about abandoning her family and people in order to save them from a horrible fate written directly into their genetic code. The Ponspectors have that sort of effect on anyone they rope into their antics, she thinks.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The Deinos Sauros population in Makna Forest has been oddly subdued lately. Melia isn’t sure why they turn their very large tails and flee at the sight of Nopon nowadays. Were they always like that? She doesn’t remember them acting like that. </p><p>Either way, it makes Debuff Resist crystals that much harder to find, and Melia has twelve Ponspectors she needs to equip. Twelve! That’s five more than seven! Inconsiderate doesn’t even begin to explain this... this... randomly generated betrayal. If only Tyrea were here. She’d gladly take a knife to whatever form of divine interference this nonsense is. She would actually be very helpful to have around, given the circumstances.</p><p>Hm. Perhaps Melia ought to dangle herself in front of a few assassins to speed matters along. Shulk would appreciate that—a break, for once. </p><p>“Double Attack crystal again,” Tentoo says sadly, waddling up to Melia with an expression of defeat and another hunk of crystalline failure. “So many Double Attack crystals! Why so many Double Attack crystals? Tentoo not need any more Double Attack crystals! Support unit should stay support unit! Optimize is best strategy!”</p><p>“Yes, that’s fair,” Melia agrees quickly, taking the crystals before Tentoo can work himself into a conniption. “You’d rather focus on supporting the team, is that right? How does a Blaze Plus VI sound to you?”</p><p>Tentoo’s fluffy face sorts itself into a brilliant smile. “Tentoo like sound of that,” he says brightly. “Where to find crystal?”</p><p>“Er,” says Melia, fairly certain that nobody’s insane enough to join her on an expedition to hunt down a dragon king, “I believe the ether ore deposit is in Tephra Cave.”</p><p>“Ooh. But cave far! All the way on Bionis’ Leg. Long way to go!”</p><p>Predicting the exact direction this conversation is straying, Melia casually adds, “There’s a Giant ruin and possibly an altar inside.”</p><p>“Tentoo go pack bags now,” says Tentoo, which more or less ends that particular conversation. </p><p>As Tentoo hurriedly waddles off to inform the rest of the Ponspectors about their new expedition, Melia silently laments the fact that they’ll have to stomp through Satorl Marsh all over again. Beautiful it is, that’s undeniable, but the fog, and the poison, and those terrible, evil exploding ether balls...</p><p>Perhaps Melia ought to invest more into Shadow Stitch. Pin an enemy in place and have twelve eager Nopon tear it to pieces while screaming words of motivation. Yes. That should solve all her problems.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Finding Tyrea tearing through Tephra Cave with bloody vengeance (which is Tyrea’s default mood) isn’t something Shulk could’ve predicted. And he can predict practically anything. </p><p>“You’re <em>late</em>,” Tyrea says venomously, as if Shulk has any idea what’s going on. He can’t even defend himself because if there was a schedule, he either ignored it, forgot it, or lost it. All three are equally as likely to have happened, so Shulk just smiles weakly and joins the semi-murderous Tyrea in smashing up some lizards.</p><p>Once every last lizard is either dead or terrified for their lives, Shulk clears his throat. “So... I’m not sure how to ask this without sounding entirely insane, but—” </p><p>“Shut up or I’ll peel your kidneys out,” Tyrea snaps.</p><p>Shulk stops talking in favor of wisely shutting up. </p><p>Tyrea takes a deep breath, likely in an attempt to refrain from adding Shulk to the various discoloured splatters on the wall. “Last thing I remember, we were in Alcamoth, repairing some useless fast-travel ship that had the audacity to explode. <em>Ugh.</em> I’ll be cleaning engine fluid out of that suit for <em>months</em>.”</p><p>It’s funny, because Shulk could cheerfully chime in and mention how percussive maintenance lends itself to a whole slew of unfortunate side effects, like explosions. But unlike what his friends, colleagues, and the universe at large believe, he actually has a sense of self-preservation.</p><p>“I remember that too,” he says instead. </p><p>“Glad to know that head of yours is good for something,” is Tyrea’s unimpressed response. </p><p>“Yes, and this is one of two things it’s good for,” Shulk assures her. </p><p>“Oh yeah? What’s the other one?”</p><p>“Er—I was going to say urban planning, but I suppose we’re not quite there yet. So prophesying terrible visions of the future involving the deaths of my loved ones in nightmarish ways, probably.”</p><p>“Huh,” says Tyrea. “Neat.”</p><p>Shulk heaves the Monado case over his shoulder and crosses the True Monado over it the other way. He feels like he should maybe mention his new additions, elaborate a little on why he’s swinging around an oversized glowstick. But Tyrea refuses to comment, which means Shulk doesn’t have to go on a long tangent about how he broke this world’s UI so hard that the administrative program had to sweet-talk him out of the code. </p><p>Of all the ways to bond, Shulk is at least familiar with trauma bonding. Fiora says that he should try self-care and therapy, but both of those things terrify him, whereas Tyrea’s more than happy to skip over the suggestions entirely and hurl people bodily to a practicing therapist.</p><p>Tyrea’s such an icon. </p><p>Hopefully this misadventure will help them become friends, or at least people who can complain loudly about horrible nightmares and very confusing childhoods when analyzed in retrospect.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Very few people have accused Tyrea of being emotionally competent. That’s because those two people are Melia and Nene, both of whom are a bit touched in the head and therefore deserve leeway, and also because Tyrea typically carries around very large and very dangerous knives on her person.</p><p>She sizes herself up, her general tendency to pretend feelings don’t exist, then scrutinizes Shulk with the same self-recriminating lens. </p><p>Deeply alarmed doesn’t begin to cover it. The boy’s a case study in trauma. Therapists could pin him up on a board and pick his brain apart, and Shulk would probably apologize for everything he couldn’t control in chronological order. </p><p>It’s almost a miracle he hasn’t gone mysteriously sailing off some high cliff. It’s a miracle <em>Tyrea</em> hasn’t vanished him off some high cliff. </p><p>“That’s quite the weapon you’ve got in that glass slab,” Tyrea says absently one night, after they’ve made camp on Kneecap Hill. She doesn’t notice Shulk’s sudden flinch, the same way she doesn’t notice the blue eyesore he’s been hauling around. </p><p>Shulk, for one, makes an admirable attempt at normalcy. “Well, you know how the cookie crumbles,” he tries to explain. “Have I told you about the time that Zanza ate my soul and hijacked my body for fourteen years?”</p><p>“A little.”</p><p>“Oh. Anyway, that happened, and a lot of other terribly confusing stuff happened, all of which makes me want to curl up into a little ball and cry, but that’s neither here nor there. But Zanza is basically the Monado. Thus, the cage.”</p><p>Then Shulk smiles nervously and pats the slab like one would stick their hand into an active furnace. There are so many layers to unpack with the boy. He should come with warning labels for emotional trauma. </p><p>Quiet isn’t a word Tyrea would use to describe Shulk. For as long as she’s known him, he’s always been a blithering science nerd. Clearly something about Tyrea makes Shulk feel comfortable enough to add in smart little quips about how he’s anxious or whatever, which in turn makes Tyrea very uncomfortable. She’s not emotionally available enough for this nonsense. </p><p>She <em>is</em> emotionally available enough to loudly complain about how they all need therapy. It gives her a warm glow.</p><p>“So we just have to kill a god all over again,” Tyrea says. “Should be simple enough.”</p><p>“I’m... not sure if simple is the best way to describe it.”</p><p>“Please. A god is just a megalomaniac that disappeared up their own arse trying to find friends. They can’t even tell murder from homicide, those shiny fools. Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true.”</p><p>Shulk might be trying to suppress a smile now. He clearly doesn’t have much practice. “I’m fairly certain murder and homicide are synonyms for the same kind of crime.”</p><p>“Yes, but it’s the connotation that matters,” Tyrea insists. “It’s not a crime unless you’re caught. <em>Then</em> it gets legal. And what an utter pain that process is.”</p><p>“You sound awfully familiar with that process.”</p><p>“Me? More like my awful interns. Do you know how many of them I’ve bailed out? Too many! Just like your useless interns!”</p><p>“My interns aren’t useless,” Shulk says with that situational hard-headedness of his. “Everybody’s blown up a lab or two. Or three. They’re very smart! They usually get the hang of things before number four.”</p><p>“Is that right? Then do you want to explain to me why my interns and your interns land themselves in the same holding cell when only one of us is running covert intelligence operations?”</p><p>“Funds are difficult to manage! Just ask Wunwun! Coffee and spite can only get you so far before you start throwing things. Mugs, usually. Sometimes knives,” Shulk admits, effectively confirming that attempted murder is part of standard lab procedure. </p><p>Tyrea holds Shulk’s determined gaze, feeling very much like she should’ve left this grave undisturbed. “You’re messed up. I hope you know that.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry, I know,” says Shulk.</p><p>“Does Melia know about this?” Tyrea demands. There’s no way sterling darling Melia knows about this. It’s inconceivable. </p><p>“Melia?” Shulk repeats, confused. “Well, of course. There’s no way we’d be able to afford so many mugs otherwise.”</p><p>“You... you mean to tell me that the imperial coffers are funding your murder sprees?”</p><p>“You make it sound so awful!”</p><p>“Wait,” Tyrea says suddenly, feeling two pieces clash together like a nightmarish tectonic event. “Is that what <em>mental wellness and assorted cutlery</em> means? Is that what the damn expense really means?”</p><p>There’s absolutely no reason for Shulk to look as surprised as he does. He could grow a brain and put on a guilty smile, maybe start crying, but nooo, Tyrea has to juggle brain-damaged idiots in her sleep. She doesn’t get paid enough for this.</p><p>Shulk levels a curious look Tyrea’s way. “I... didn’t know you worked with Accounting.”</p><p>“I’m going to paint your innards all over the Bionis,” Tyrea informs him.</p><p>Shulk figures out some reason to call it a day afterward. Obviously Tyrea doesn’t sleep because she’s justifiably paranoid. Meanwhile, Shulk makes a good show of pretending to sleep because his brain forgot to install brakes during manufacturing. </p><p>Typical.</p><p>Hopefully Melia’s being reasonable and keeping a low profile. Though given her propensity to be as unreasonable as possible, Tyrea’s just hoping that she hasn’t wrangled up a small army and burned down half of Makna.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“That’s good! That’s very good! It’s just R—it’s just like I remember. Stick close together! You mustn’t let any monsters break your formation!”</p><p>“Orders received, Miss Melly!”</p><p>Melia ducks as a row of catapulted frozen saliva sails over her head and into the forest beyond. The terrified squawks of assorted jungle creatures echo off in the distance. Melia elects to ignore them.</p><p>It should come as no surprise that the Ponspectors are absolutely lethal when appropriately armed. Teamwork (“PONSPECTORS ‘TIL WE DIE!”) has always been their strong suit, and if Melia is to pry Zanza out of Shulk’s skull, then she needs to be absolutely sure that her companions can be there to hold down a god while Melia flays him alive. </p><p>Here’s a question, then. Which is better: one Burninate or twelve Burninates?</p><p>The answer isn’t as obvious as one would initially anticipate. One Burninate is good fun, a joy of a time, and objectively useful in any scenario.</p><p>Twelve Burninates, as one can guess, is twelve times as effective. That comes with some... consequences. </p><p>Those consequences involve Melia being poised with three water elementals swirling around her at all times like a firefighter unlucky enough to get posted at the station closest to Alcamoth’s labs, but that’s neither here nor there. What really matters is that Melia doesn’t accidentally throw out any fire discharges and encourage her entourage to follow in her footsteps, because while one Burninate is excellent for harassing enemies and roasting large meats, twelve is an ecological disaster in the making.</p><p>Not that it really matters in the long run, incoming world rewrite and all. Still, nihilism is a very bad attitude for an empress to adopt, and Melia would rather things go a little smoother this time.</p><p>Ergo, she would like cave Lorithia’s face in with her heel. Dickson... Dickson is Shulk’s decision, but Melia feels she’s been through enough to warrant a free gut punch.</p><p>If they ever find him. That man’s a slippery little eel.</p><p>“Very good,” Melia says from up in her tree, once the Ponspectors finally manage to pull themselves into a circle and launch a nightmarish circle of flame out into the pavilion. A few unfortunate Eks passing through the area meet a fiery death. “Er—now, if you could refrain from using such a tactic unless I tell you otherwise—” </p><p>“Ponspectors destroy Brutal Gravar and uncover secrets of King Agni’s Tomb!” Evelen shrieks, much to Melia’s dismay.</p><p>The Ponspectors let out a rallying cry, their fluffy little bodies up to the eyes with adrenaline. Before Melia can point out that Shulk has more or less perfected both Monado Eater and Battle Soul, the gaggle of adventure-hungry, mildly bloodthirsty Nopon charge off to the newly repaired Bridge Four.</p><p>Maybe Melia should’ve waited a little longer before she funded that venture. Oh, well. She’s used to hindsight trying to dig her heart out with its bare hands by now.</p><p>Then again, Melia’s a little different this time around. She has a lot more spite and rage, for one. She also has her handy Poison Plus VI. That should prove useful.</p><p>So Melia leaps out of her tree and sprints after the Ponspectors. Things should be interesting now that she’s the one scheming to bring down the hammer of judgement down on Zanza’s weedy head.</p><p>(One of these days, Melia’s going to find Alvis peering curiously at her from a bush. She will, of course, grab him by the neck and beat him unconscious. She’ll apologize to Shulk, mostly for his own bad taste.)</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>It takes Shulk a few hours to reconfigure his existence to this... situation. He figures it’s quite reasonable, given his first ten minutes in this timeline resulted in a spectacular breakdown. </p><p>Tyrea has no such patience. “So we’re a few weeks before your colonies get exploded,” she summarizes. “Wonderful. I assume you don’t want that to happen.”</p><p>“That’s an accurate assumption,” says Shulk. </p><p>“What a pathetic problem. Let’s go kill that golden megalomaniac and be done with all this.”</p><p>“Um,” says Shulk, figuring that Tyrea doesn’t have enough experience with divine run-ins to warrant referencing the <em>other</em> golden megalomaniac, “I’m going to guess that you’re talking about Egil?”</p><p>“Him, sure,” is Tyrea’s flippant response. She takes a moment to nail a Magnis Ardun between the eyes, which is terrifying. </p><p>Shulk takes his own little moment to consider Tyrea’s horrifyingly reliable version of Head Shot, then takes a few casual steps away. “Just so you know, Egil isn’t as evil as he seems,” he tries to explain. “He didn’t originally plan on destroying all of Bionis until Zanza came along. Egil is just... he’s just very bitter, disillusioned, and lonely.”</p><p>“He’s unreasonable, bloodthirsty, and quasi-immortal,” Tyrea rephrases. “All very good and respectable traits. He’s a threat.”</p><p>It’s tragic, the way Tyrea keeps all her thoughts to herself. “To most, I’m sure he is. But last time, we almost made things right, so there’s no reason why we can’t try this time around too.”</p><p>“Is that so? Want to explain the <em>almost</em> part to me?”</p><p>“Mechonis Core,” Shulk says simply.</p><p>Tyrea frowns. “This is the part where Zanza tripped you into a depressive dreamscape and made the Monado into an edgy tuning fork.”</p><p>“I’ve... never heard it described that way, but yes, you’re right.”</p><p>“Huh,” is all Tyrea says, likely caring very little for all this nonsense. “All I’m hearing is if we can’t kill the guy, we can still massively piss him off. One vote to blow up Galahad Fortress from me.”</p><p>While the suggestion is unexpected and incredibly violent, Shulk has to admit it’s not an entirely bad idea. How they’re going to go about rigging an entire fortress to explode is beyond him, but if there’s one thing life has proved itself capable of, it’s tossing random explosions at everything Shulk touches from every direction.</p><p>Surely things will work out. Not because Shulk and Tyrea are capable agents of chaos (although that undoubtedly plays a part), but because life hates them.</p><p>And Shulk would be sad about it. He really would! Except the last time he begged anything from life, he got an unwanted god and a whole lot of emotional baggage. So that’s one lesson learned, and one blown-up fortress added to the bucket list.</p><p>“I can hear your cylinders scraping against each other,” Tyrea says accusingly. “Your brain is going to explode like your awful prototypes one of these days. What are you even worried about? We’re armed, ready, and about to dismantle something large and important through unscheduled demolition. What’s your problem?”</p><p>Oh, wonderful. Just the opportunity Shulk’s been waiting for. “I’m extremely anxious and my lack of visions foretelling terrible events greatly concerns me,” he admits.</p><p>Tyrea stares at him. Given that her stare is classified as an interrogation skill, Shulk feels his fear is justified. “You... miss your traumatic, haunting visions,” she says slowly. Carefully. Like Shulk’s about to stick his hand in a meat grinder and Tyrea has to be the one to talk him out of it.</p><p>There’s a moment of frightening silence where Shulk’s half convinced that Tyrea’s going to gut him and let the Armus have what’s left. </p><p>In a stunning turn of events, Tyrea does not, in fact, resort to physical violence. She instead places her hand on Shulk’s shoulder, pats twice in a very practiced rhythm, and tries out an awkward, “That’s rough, but also an extremely relatable mood.”</p><p>Whenever people say Shulk’s moods are relatable, he’s immediately concerned, because his mind is a deep void that should never be breached.</p><p>(Un)fortunately, Tyrea is just as versed in relying on objectively toxic and unhealthy coping mechanisms to combat an otherwise unchangeable situation. Hello, extremely troubled parental bond, hello, nightmarish visions.</p><p>Shulk raises his hand and pats Tyrea’s shoulder in response. “Life kind of sucks sometimes,” he offers.</p><p>From an outsider’s perspective, they must look silly. A little circle of trauma bonding, ready to attack and dethrone god.</p><p>“Let’s go find Melia,” Shulk suggests, once the moment has more or less gone stale. He removes his arm and determinedly does not make eye contact. “We can go blow up Galahad Fortress, then, um... oh, I suppose we can kill Lorithia while we’re in Alcamoth.”</p><p>“<em>Melia</em> can kill Lorithia while we’re in Alcamoth,” Tyrea corrects. “We can watch with snacks and folding chairs while she makes Lorithia into blood porridge with her bare hands.”</p><p>That’s a terrifying statement made all the more terrifying by the fact that it really isn’t inaccurate. Yes, Shulk has his own grudges against Lorithia, but those grudges mostly exist because his friends are spectacularly pissed off at Lorithia, which obviously means that Shulk’s pissed off at Lorithia. He’s not about to let Melia be rightfully angry and spiteful by herself.</p><p>In general, Melia’s life story consists of individual stories that traumatize people in passing. If she didn’t wear her calm-and-collected mask so often, people would probably hug her a lot more often than they already do. Which is not enough. </p><p>Also, Lorithia is definitively a bad person and not anyone’s adoptive parental figure, so that makes matters a little easier to sort out.</p><p>Basically, Shulk is trying very hard not to think about anything that isn’t in the immediate future. That means he’s purging all thoughts from his head that aren’t related to what he needs to make a decent Armu T-Bone Steak. </p><p>Tyrea punts a rock into the vast oblivion of the Bionis. “We all need therapy,” she says bitterly. </p><p>“We really do,” Shulk agrees sadly.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Convincing the Ponspectors to leave the tomb-raiding for another day isn’t exactly a simple process, but Melia takes pride in her ability to defend her stubborn pride to the death. </p><p>Well, maybe not to the death. She hasn’t been pressed that severely yet, partly because all her loved ones seem to get the jump on her and insist on dying for her before she can even consider dying for herself. The many sacrifices made in her name have certainly helped her grow as a person and strengthen her will, so she should appreciate them! Or something.</p><p>Oh, whoops—no negative thoughts! Begone, negative thoughts! </p><p>“Wunwun,” Melia says, “would you please come over here for a moment?”</p><p>Wunwun waddles over, still wearing a downtrodden pout. That’s fine. It makes him all the cuter to squeeze.</p><p>Melia plucks Wunwun off his feet and presses into his bouncy, fluffy body. She can feel the dopamine rushing in to do battle with her various unhappy memories.</p><p>“Bird Lady being weird,” Wunwun says accusingly, though he notably doesn’t try to escape. </p><p>“Ignore Chief,” Hekasa says. She fixes Wunwun with her trademark unimpressed stare. “Chief not recognize love and affection if it club him over the head.”</p><p>“Wunwun not appreciate biting honesty of Hekasa!”</p><p>“Hekasa not appreciate appalling bookkeeping of Chief Wunwun!”</p><p>“I appreciate and love all of you very much,” Melia informs the Ponspectors.</p><p>“Aye aye, Miss Melly,” the Ponspectors respond brightly.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Somehow, it never occurred to Shulk that the path up to Galahad Fortress would take them past the very much not destroyed Colony 6.</p><p>Shulk chooses to ignore this fact. He ignores it so hard that Tyrea has to dump swap water over his head to inform them that they’ve made it to Satorl Marsh.</p><p>Many times has Shulk been told that he looks like a sad puppy whenever he gets dunked. Tyrea more or less confirms this by glaring at him in total apathy.</p><p>“You’re an idiot,” Tyrea says flatly, after Shulk asks how they made it past Colony 6’s justifiably over-the-top surveillance without being stopped. “You and I both know that Nopon are eldritch creatures descended from our deepest nightmares, and that their caravans are otherworldly portals.”</p><p>There’s a deliberate pause afterward. Shulk squints. “Was that a joke?”</p><p>“I am a paragon of humour,” Tyrea tells him, then throws a towel over his head. “Next time you want to astral project, tell me. <em>Ugh.</em> There goes a perfectly good Rainbow Slug.”</p><p>Shulk dries himself off as best he can. “Um. Can I ask why you were carrying around Rainbow Slugs?”</p><p>“Because Rainbow Slugs are a lot harder for the Royal Treasury to keep track of, and nobody in their right mind wants to audit slugs.”</p><p>“Oh.” This is one of the strange things that Tyrea likes to state as fact. “To bribe Nopon, you mean?”</p><p>“No, Shulk,” Tyrea says, offering an early heads-up to oncoming sarcasm with the direct usage of his name. “It’s my ritual. I trek all the way down to the Fallen Arm, commit mass slug murder, pluck herbs on the way up to Frontier Village, wash everything up nice and clean, and then serve it all to Chief Dunga to earn his favour and maintain relations between Makna and Alcamoth.”</p><p>It’s good that Tyrea has such an obvious tell whenever she’s being sarcastic. Otherwise Shulk might really go about his day trying to process Tyrea’s apparent culinary expertise. </p><p>Now that he thinks about it, she probably gave herself a tell. Mercy upon those who take Tyrea’s sarcasm for fact and act on it. </p><p>Anyway. Satorl Marsh is an absolute splendor to witness at night, and Shulk takes his time admiring the scenery. Tyrea is less entranced. She seems content stomping through the marsh, hissing at every passing creature that turns their way.</p><p>For the very first time in his very horrible life, Shulk watches with equal parts awe and horror as Tyrea terrifies Veteran Yozel so bad it squeaks like a wheezy toy, clears three vertical feet, then darts away into the fog.</p><p>Shulk just... kind of stares at Tyrea.</p><p>Tyrea stares back. “It’s a talent,” she says, effectively explaining nothing.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Somehow, Melia forgot completely about the short but necessary trek through the Bionis’ Interior between Makna Forest and Satorl Marsh.</p><p>That should bring up some fun memories.</p><p>There’s nothing to do but march on, of course. It <em>is</em> a little concerning that Melia’s focus is becoming increasingly scattered under these nonoptimal circumstances, but surely the explanation lies in stress. She’s a master of handling stress. All she needs is some sleeping pills and some water, and she can forgo the water if need be. She can forgo both, actually; a solid wall and some fortitude solve many problems.</p><p>Anyway. Bionis’ Interior. Bad memories. All very tragic, but there is one specific upside that Melia finds herself very eager to act upon.</p><p>See, when Zanza designed the biological contaminant that would become the Bionis, he consulted his council of his ego, his pride, and his arrogance and decided: I do so love looking at my own beating heart. I shall install window-like holes specifically in my Third Lung, because my brain is massive and I am a genius.</p><p>“Wunwun,” Melia says as her bouncing group passes by said holes, “how high can you all stack?”</p><p>The Ponspectors glance at each other. They then proceed to create the most efficient Nopon tower Melia’s ever seen.</p><p>Melia hops onto Wunwun’s head, then clambers into the Third Lung Bronchus. In a matter of minutes, every Ponspector is over the ledge and eager to—excuse her language—<em>wreck shit</em> and give Zanza a dizzy spell, an asthma attack, and a stroke, in that order.</p><p>A little foolish of Zanza to make his innards so easily traversable. And breakable. It takes little more than a few determined Spear Breaks supplemented by a combination of Omega Ouch, Roly-Poly, Ziggy-Jaggy, and Fall Apart to wreak havoc. </p><p>(Melia finds battle reports involving the Ponspectors difficult to deliver with a straight face. She couldn’t possibly begin to fathom why.)</p><p>Fortunately, the Bionis’ blood is neon green. Melia feels the <em>fortunately</em> is well deserved, otherwise the Red Team would be a lot more literally red, and she’s not certain what to think of that.</p><p>In any case.</p><p>Whoever allowed the Ponspectors access to explosives is insane, and Melia would like to have a talk with them. The talk would consist of convincing them to put more funding into the aforementioned explosives, because goodness, are they useful.</p><p>Admission time: Melia isn’t exactly sure how to induce a dizzy spell, an asthma attack, or a stroke. She figures that if she blows the entire place apart, something is sure to happen. That’s usually how it works with explosives.</p><p>Melia’s just about finished rigging up her last Nopon bomb around the heart when a very familiar face morphs into existence in front of her. </p><p>“Your Highness,” is Lorithia’s curt greeting. She’s trying for a sultry smile, but there’s a manic twitch at the corner of her lips that’s likely being fueled by the indiscriminate carnage around them.</p><p>Melia blinks innocently. “Oh, Minister Lorithia,” she says, hiking up her naive princess boots. “This is a very strange place for you to be! Is there something wrong?”</p><p>The pause that Lorithia takes to try and pry the truth out of Melia with her eyes is very amusing for various reasons: first, Melia is holding a staff dripping with undiluted ether, so she might as well be holding a bloody knife over a bleeding corpse. Second, the Ponspectors are still working away at rigging their own bombs. Third, Melia doesn’t think she’s ever felt more hatred for one single being than Lorithia. </p><p>“Poor princess,” is what Lorithia goes for. She bares her teeth in a smile. “I’m sure you’re very lost. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll be sure to return you to the capital in one piece.”</p><p>“That would be nice,” Melia says.</p><p>The Ponspectors, of course, are watching this all unfold in utter silence. It’s... rather unnerving, actually, which means it must be nightmare fuel for anyone who isn’t Melia.</p><p>Oh well. In all her ninety years of existing, only three people have accused Melia of being reckless. Those three are Tyrea, Shulk, and Kallian. </p><p>Melia figures three isn’t enough. It’s about time to raise that count a little higher. Say—by twelve, perhaps?</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Tyrea hates her job. She <em>hates</em> it.</p><p>Of all the weird, awful places she’s been sent, nobody’s been crazy enough to shunt her off inside the Bionis. Well, she’s here now, and she can say with all the certainty in this damned world that this is just one more thing she despises.</p><p>The very obvious traces of indiscriminate and eager bombing aren’t helping. </p><p>Good thing the Bionis’ blood looks like a radioactive energy drink. Evil and mysterious Tyrea may be, but even she doesn’t think sleep would come nicely after witnessing someone’s cardiovascular system explode.</p><p>Shulk stares in silent shock at the disaster before them. Clearly his higher cognitive functions have failed him again, ooh, big surprise. Why do people call him a genius again?</p><p>This leaves an excellent opportunity for the distant sounds of an extremely one-sided beatdown to echo across the chamber.</p><p>“Is… is Melia beating Lorithia to death with her staff?” Shulk eventually manages.</p><p>“It’s more of a metal stick at this point,” Tyrea points out. </p><p>She squints. It’s hard to make things out from where they’re standing in the Third Lung, but she’s fairly sure—yes, those are, in fact, the Ponspectors, taking turns breaking their Biters over Lorithia’s head. Tyrea’s pretty sure Lorithia’s very dead at this point, but vigilance never killed anyone.</p><p>Tyrea and Shulk silently watch for a few minutes longer until they realize that they’re going to have to pry the stupid stick out of Melia’s hands and force her to take a shower and a nap. </p><p>“This is going to get so weird,” Shulk says despairingly.</p><p>“I demand overtime pay,” Tyrea declares to the world at large. Then she hauls Shulk up into a bridal style carry and starts flapping her way toward her disaster of a charge.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Melia wakes up in Frontier Village. She recognizes the windchimes and bells immediately, which is good, because it means she won’t be forced to punch someone out and make her escape into the night.</p><p>“Bird Lady awake!”</p><p>Ah. Yes, here come the Ponspectors, waddling up with varying degrees of concern. Evelen jumps onto Melia’s bed and rests a wing-flap against her forehead. </p><p>She leaves it there and doesn’t do much else. Her determined expression is admirable, though. Melia finds it difficult to suppress a smile. “What is your diagnosis, doctor?”</p><p>“Evelen not know,” Evelen declares. “But! Evelen see Hom-Hom doctor slap forehead of patient during past internship! Work like magic!”</p><p>“Faifa think conclusion too hasty,” mutters Faifa. </p><p>“Tyrea thinks Melia should pony up the rest of the Nopon bombs,” Tyrea says, hilariously out of place given her preferred colour scheme and general demeanor.</p><p>And there it is. Back on track, like always.</p><p>Shulk pokes out behind Tyrea, looking equally anxious and relieved. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” he says, maneuvering past the Ponspectors to seek out a stool. “I didn’t expect you to, ah, make a move so early, but I really can’t blame you.”</p><p>“I am very proud of my self-control,” Melia tells him severely.</p><p>Shulk takes a moment too long to register it as a joke. “Oh! Oh, yes.” Tyrea rolls her eyes behind him. “Well, I’m just happy everything worked out. It’s nice to see—I mean, it’s nice to meet you, Ponspectors.”</p><p>“Nice to meet bright blue Hom-Hom too!” Wunwun says cheerfully, reaching up for a handshake.</p><p>Shulk shakes the offered wing with a wince. “Er, if you could keep the bright blue part between us, I would appreciate that very much.”</p><p>“Okay, but bright blue not very subtle,” Wunwun points out.</p><p>He’s right. As bright as Shulk’s smile is, it’s a bit hard to focus on anything other than his portable nightlight. </p><p>Shulk slings the bright blue sword over his shoulder with long-suffering ease. Melia deliberately hadn’t mentioned recognizing it from their little god-slaying stint from a while ago for fear of causing a catastrophic system failure. </p><p>“This ended up with me back in Colony 9,” he half-explains. “I think... I don’t know, actually. I don’t think I should even try and guess what this all means.”</p><p>Certainly that explains nothing. “And what of the other package you’re ferrying around?”</p><p>Shulk slings the glass slab off his back the same way one would stick their face into a furnace: with incredible hesitance and self-hatred. “Well,” he begins hesitantly, “do you remember the Monado? Red sword, blue laser blade, glass core?”</p><p>“I do, in fact, remember the Monado,” Melia says.</p><p>“Good. Great. Anyway, I woke up in the Weapons Development Lab back in Colony 9, and there it was. And I certainly wasn’t about to let anybody else’s soul get eaten. So.”</p><p>There’s an argument to be made about how Shulk is willing to let his own soul be eaten. Melia laments that this isn’t even the first time she’s had that particular thought.</p><p>“We’ve been placing bets on when our lovely seer will phase through a wall and reveal unto Shulk the secrets of the universe,” Tyrea says blandly. “All of them have been wrong so far, to nobody’s surprise. I’m beginning think he doesn’t actually exist at all and we’re all tromping around in a shared delusion.”</p><p>“I honestly don’t care when it happens,” Shulk says despairingly. “I just want it to happen <em>soon</em>.”</p><p>“Fifty thousand for when we blow up Galahad Fortress,” Melia proposes.</p><p>Shulk makes a vague sound of distress. </p><p>“What?” Melia asks, looking between Shulk’s pinched expression and Tyrea’s satisfied grin. “It’s the most reasonable course of action. The Mechon will find it difficult to launch an assault when they’re on-fire scrap metal.”</p><p>“I’m not disagreeing,” Shulk informs her despairingly. “I’m just very worried that both you and Tyrea are so eager to make things explode.”</p><p>“We have a lot of pent-up rage,” Tyrea explains.</p><p>Shulk pauses for a moment, probably running through recent events in his head. His conclusion is apparent to everyone when he makes his <em>ah, another walking disaster, just like me</em> face. “I am becoming increasingly aware of that fact.”</p><p>With their next course of action agreed upon, Melia graciously accepts a new set of travel gear from Nonona. It’s dramatic, comes with a horned headpiece, and fits the occasion. </p><p>Melia slips into her new world-burning clothes, accepts the new staff Tyrea sourced for her (the... Empress Staff? Where did you get this? Did you break into the Imperial Armory, Tyrea? Did you kill someone to get this, Tyrea? Where are you going), and ensures that everyone on their not-so little team is equipped with a full satchel of Nopon bombs.</p><p>“What are these made of?” asks Shulk. He scrutinizes the explosive in typical Shulk fashion: by shoving it in his face and disregarding any personal safety. </p><p>“Repurposed red pollen orb,” Hekasa answers. “Very dangerous! Handle with caution if not want to accidentally remove paws!”</p><p>Oh. That explains a few things. </p><p>Perhaps that’s why Melia and the Ponspectors were so... <em>energetic</em> when they beat Lorithia back into the blood and ether she came from.</p><p>Shulk’s expression twists accordingly. He carefully stashes the bombs away, then clears his throat. “That’s curious,” he says, keeping his voice neutral. “On a completely unrelated note, does a Nopon called Bana work in Frontier Village?”</p><p>“Ooh, bright blue Hom-Hom get right on first try,” Wunwun says brightly. “Bana make first iteration of Nopon bomb! Then Bana make big mess with drug trade. Big drug bust happen just before Miss Melly arrive. Officials confiscate everything, but Dekadeka manage to get paws on Nopon bomb recipe and perfect!”</p><p>Dekadeka throws up a victory sign. The Ponspectors all seem rather pleased, with the exception of Hekasa, who never seems pleased. </p><p>“Well, that’s one version of self-care,” Shulk mutters to himself.</p><p>Tyrea throws a handful of Rainbow Slugs at the Nopon Merchants in exchange for gas masks. She’s always been a responsible one, that Tyrea.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>It’s a little strange that Bridge Four is up and running so soon, but Melia’s contacts and negotiation skills are borderline unreal, so this is just one more thing Shulk needs to accept as fact. Regardless, the way to Valak Mountain is good to go. </p><p>That’s great! No stealing a fast travel ship (much to Tyrea’s dismay) and no crimes of traceable origin. Everything’s going great.</p><p>“Do you mind if we pass by Ose Tower?” Shulk asks as they’re making their way across the bridge.</p><p>Tyrea turns around and offers him a look that implies she’s wanted to throw him off something tall for a while now. Perhaps he should’ve waited until they finished crossing the bridge before asking. </p><p>“You want to go visit the place where your parents died and Zanza stole your body,” she rephrases unhelpfully.</p><p>“That sounds rather detrimental to your mental health,” Melia chimes in behind him.</p><p>“First of all, none of us have any right to talk about mental health,” Shulk points out, eliciting a few murmurs of grudging agreement. “Second, if I can figure out how to reverse-engineer whatever seal the High Entia ancestors made however many thousand years ago, wouldn’t that solve one of our larger problems?”</p><p>Tyrea considers this for a moment. “Okay, so we want a divine garbage chute. I’m on board. Here’s a question: where does it go?”</p><p>A very reasonable question that Shulk’s spent every waking hour of this greatest hits compilation pondering. In the background, of course—he needs time to do other things, like eat and sleep. “We have a couple of options. The easiest solution would just be a replay—” </p><p>“No,” Melia says flatly.</p><p>“Since we already know how it’ll turn out, we can bait Zanza out—” </p><p>“You gave all of us a heart attack last time you got dragged into memory space, I’ll remind you—” </p><p>“And we won’t have to worry about my lack of visions, which although scarring and terrifying, greatly improved our chances of success in combat, so this is a good replacement—” </p><p>“Retraumatizing yourself really shouldn’t be your default option when we can rewrite an otherwise tasteless tragedy—” </p><p><em>“Shut up,”</em> Tyrea says, and that about ends the conversation.</p><p>They all sit in silence for a bit. Tyrea glares at both Shulk and Melia like she’s considering which one to hurl into the river first. She probably realizes that she’d have to jump in after them, which would be a massive pain and result in yet another detour to dry their clothes, because she eventually turns her full attention to Wunwun. </p><p>“You,” she says, which is never a good way to begin any sentence.</p><p>Wunwun holds her gaze with admirable courage. Shulk figures that kind of spine is a prerequisite for sentient prey animals that insist on diving headfirst into predator-infested ruins. “Ponspectors ready to serve,” he declares proudly.</p><p>“Good. Here’s a hypothetical scenario for you: an evil god that wants to wipe out all life is living in your friend’s body, and you don’t have any good way to get rid of him while he’s loitering there. What do you do to kill him?”</p><p>“Friend,” Melia repeats with a smile.</p><p>“You shut up,” Tyrea snaps. Then she turns back to the Ponspectors. “So? Give me your best shot.”</p><p>Wunwun frowns in confusion. “Scenario sound awfully detailed and highly suspect, but okay. Ponspectors solve problem!”</p><p>After a furious series of back-and-forths that reminds Shulk a little too much of his interns and their tendency to use every object within arm’s reach as projectile weapons, Wunwun spins back around with a brilliant grin. His tiny arms are on his—er, what Shulk assumes are his hips, and he looks awfully proud of himself.</p><p>It’s the same smile Shulk’s interns wear when they start a proposal with several drums full of nitroglycerine. Wonderful. </p><p>“Ponspectors come up with ingenious plan,” Wunwun begins. </p><p>Melia, for one, doesn’t look very comforted. “Melia is concerned,” she mumbles under her breath.</p><p>“First, get god out of friend,” Wunwun says. “Ponspectors not know specifics, but situation already very weird! If mister god overhear plans to murder him, why he not more proactive about being murdered?”</p><p>That... is an unfortunately good point. Melia and Tyrea both recognize this, because they direct the same raised-brow, concerned look Shulk’s way.</p><p>Shulk really doesn’t want to consider the possibility that this is all one of Zanza’s unwelcome machinations. Actually, he finds it hard to believe. If Zanza really is operating off some elaborate hundred-part scheme, it seems a little strange to give Shulk a god-slaying sword. Like... if you don’t want the pyromaniac to set fire to the house, why give them a flamethrower?</p><p>But Wunwun’s not done. “Ponspectors reach conclusion that god unable to act,” he declares. </p><p>“Would be very unwise for god to allow such obvious scheming,” Faifa continues. “Similar to how littlepon pretend everything okay by not say anything, but inside is just endless screaming!”</p><p>That is perhaps the most accurate summation of this entire situation: pretending and endless internal screaming.</p><p>“Best guess is god not powerful enough because of lack of conduit,” Tentoo says. “If eavesdropping of Tentoo have any truth, then sound like god have sort of mental windows before! But because Mister Shulk not grab Monado, friends essentially smash all windows and replace with brick walls.”</p><p>“That’s a valid point,” Melia contemplates aloud. “Perhaps... well, this is all conjecture, but we’ve established that the Monado is a Master Key of sorts, yes? A sort of—how do we call it—manifestation of will, declaration of power, or something of the like. So yes, Zanza is dangerous, but only when he’s able to properly wield his Monado. I assume he might be facing some difficulties at the moment.”</p><p>A brief silence follows in which the presence of an administrative computer would be greatly appreciated. Alas, life always finds ways to disappoint them.</p><p>Melia lets out a short sigh. She’s definitely going to deck Alvis on sight. “In other words, Zanza is essentially locked in place until Shulk decides to go swinging around the Monado. And let’s also consider the fact that we know Zanza’s ‘behold, I was Shulk all along’ spiel is the convoluted and entirely incorrect climax of a five-act student play, and that Shulk is in no immediate danger of being suddenly possessed.”</p><p>“So,” Tyrea concludes, eyes worryingly narrowed and pointed Shulk’s way, “Zanza’s forced to go wherever we go, and we derailed his plan so bad that he has no idea what to do but pray that Shulk decides to wield the Monado one day.”</p><p>“A little foolish, given that we have a better, god-slaying version.”</p><p>“Yeah. Which is why we should use it as much as possible, as a <em>hey Lord, go die in a hole</em>.”</p><p>“I mean, I highly doubt he expected us to blow up most of his heart. I’m genuinely disappointed that didn’t drag him out right there.”</p><p>“Oh, I bet he wanted out. He just can’t, since one part’s stuck on Prison Island and the other one’s stuck in a Shulk-prison. Do you think we could give him a spiritual stroke? Kill a soul by making it self-destruct? Wouldn’t that be absolutely revolutionary?”</p><p>“Even if that’s possible, what’s to say that his dead soul wouldn’t be stuck inside Shulk? I doubt any doctor in existence has the expertise to perform a soul removal.”</p><p>“Also, which evil mastermind hinges all their evil plans on one step? Imagine it: okay, we started off great, got the body, killed the people. Now he has to grab the sword. Except he doesn’t! Run’s dead, show’s over, see you all never.”</p><p>“Please continue,” Shulk begs the Ponspectors. Every word is making him more and more stressed. He wants out so bad. </p><p>Wunwun offers him a look of concern. Great. Now Shulk’s done the thing he hates the most: being the spotlight of everyone’s worries. “Easy solution,” he says. “Funnel problem into original problem, then destroy both problems. Now everyone happy and can get on with research!”</p><p>That sounds a great deal easier said than done. Really: take Zanza and put him back in the Monado, then blow both to bits? It sounds just a little outlandish, doesn’t it?</p><p>“Hang on,” Melia says, all of a sudden. “We could just talk to Vanea, couldn’t we?”</p><p>They both stare at each other for a while.</p><p>“Oh,” Shulk says slowly. “There <em>is</em> a doctor who knows how to perform a soul removal.”</p><p>Tyrea takes the opportunity to slap them both across the back of the head. “You’re all idiots and I hate you,” she informs them, then starts off across the bridge again.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Valak Mountain is the same as always: bitterly cold, gorgeous at night, and incredibly tedious to navigate.</p><p>Melia’s almost relieved when they finally make it to the entrance of Ose Tower. Tyrea clearly shares the sentiment, given the ferocity with which she hurls Magma Rocks at the ice wall. Most interestingly, Shulk looks surprisingly calm. He’s pale, of course, but that’s likely the fault of his sunny Colony 9 Homs genes. </p><p>The Ponspectors form their own little shivering pile in a corner, which is very cute but also very sad. Melia props a single fire elemental above them because she feels sorry for them, but also because any more than one is just asking for arson-related trouble.</p><p>Tyrea studies the empty pedestal with deep suspicion. “So we’re here,” she says.</p><p>“We are,” is all Melia can offer. If she’s following a little too closely behind Shulk, nobody comments, confirming her suspicion that they’re all adequately concerned. </p><p>Shulk marches up to the pedestal. Then he stares at it. His expression is entirely blank. </p><p>Now, Melia doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. She’s an empress. It would be unbecoming. Also, the last time she thought she had any semblance of what was going on, a god walked out of Shulk’s body and tried to eat the world. Caution is a reasonable response.</p><p>“Perhaps this was a bad idea,” Melia suggests. </p><p>“Just so we’re all on the same page,” Shulk abruptly says, “sometimes I stop breathing for extended periods of time, and other times my sense of taste malfunctions.”</p><p>Ah. Yes, hosting an evil god comes with its own slew of unfortunate side effects.</p><p>Tyrea nods sagely to an admission that would otherwise deeply disturb normal bystanders. Isn’t that wonderful? </p><p>No. Not at all. It just means she’s filing another entry under Shulk’s report for the day she inevitably sends them all to therapy to fix their brains.</p><p>“Basically, if I seem like I’m dead all of a sudden, it might be because I am,” Shulk continues in total monotone. </p><p>“Like right now?” Melia suggests gently.</p><p>“I... think I would appreciate a nap.”</p><p>And it’s settled. Rest first, pour over ancient sealing technology later. Melia sets up another fire elemental above Shulk’s head, then guides him over to the Nopon pile. </p><p>He sinks in and disappears under yellow fluff without so much as a word. Melia would be concerned about him suffocating, but he didn’t appear to be breathing anyway. Life is all about the unexpected perks.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Shulk wakes up in the morning, looking much less like a corpse than he did the night before. He’s very awkward about it, apologizing for things entirely out of his control, and Tyrea grows so tired so quickly that she shoves a spoonful of instant oatmeal in Shulk’s mouth to shut him up.</p><p>The Ponspectors are more than happy to tear Ose Tower apart, which flies in the face of archeological preservation somewhat, but there won’t be anything to preserve if Zanza decides to throw a hissy fit. Thus, decisions are made, and towers are deconstructed. </p><p>Melia can’t help but feel a little tinge of fear, seeing the reliable containment cell that kept Zanza stowed away for so long end up in assorted piles of machinery. Then again, if it’s between a tower and Shulk, Melia would pick Shulk any and every day of the week.</p><p>Case in point: a few hours later, Shulk raises a shiny new slab of metal over his head triumphantly. “I’m pretty good at this,” he declares in a rare moment of self-affirmation.</p><p>Tyrea peers up from where she’s preparing lunch. “Is it better than a big slab of glass?”</p><p>“It’s made of the same alloy that chained Zanza—I mean, Arglas,” Shulk explains excitedly. He gestures to various knicks and knacks, all of which are very shiny and impressive. “If Zanza wants to get to the Monado now, he won’t even be able to use my body, because I hardwired a system that’ll immediately and violently reject ether directed with intent, not to mention any being with godlike levels of world-weaving ether in their body!”</p><p>Of course Shulk would manage such a feat. This is the same engineer who created the Monado REX in a two week-long mad science haze which consequently landed him in the emergency ward. But putting that fact aside, it would take a spectacular idiot to deny Shulk’s competence.</p><p>“That’s very impressive,” Melia says. “May I try?”</p><p>Shulk waves her in closer. Melia sends a concentrated burst of ether at the sheath.</p><p>The sheath responds by rudely firing back a bolt of... miscellaneous blue energy, which Melia barely avoids, which proceeds to punch a hole through and into the nearby ice walls. </p><p>Ricochet echoes away in the distance. Some animal lets out a pitiful squeak.</p><p>They all enjoy a brief moment of wondrous silence. </p><p>Then Tyrea, ever the responsible one, says, “I’m holding onto the evil Monado from now on.”</p><p>Shulk doesn’t even try to argue. Melia thinks it’s curious how quickly they’re breaking reality this time around.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Before anything else can happen, there’s an impending Mechon invasion to fend off and a fortress to destroy. Those two aren’t exactly mutually exclusive, which makes solving both problems much more convenient.</p><p>Shulk loves convenience. Optimizing routes, doing things as efficiently as possible, all good and fun. </p><p>It is perhaps not an understatement to say that he is very stressed.</p><p>It’s not the fighting that has him stressed. Sword Valley doesn’t stand as much of an obstacle. To be fair, it’s still a reinforced wall with turrets pointing from every direction. Very scary, very imposing, the perfect stage for an epic battle to win back their destinies.</p><p>So it’s not the defenses that are at fault. This timeline just isn’t prepared for the devastation that is their pack of severely messed up individuals.</p><p>Shulk, of course, is still a flaming disaster. The True Monado cuts through everything with distressing ease. This includes the ground. Never has Shulk been reminded more of his tiny stature than in this farce of a timeline. </p><p>Embarrassingly, or if you’re Tyrea, hilariously, the True Monado likes to drag into the ground whenever Shulk has it on his back. It’s <em>mortifying</em>. It’s like Shulk’s leaving a trail of crumbs, and anyone who follows it expecting some grand reveal is instead presented with a twenty-year-old anxiety-ridden engineer who just wants to inhale caffeine through his nostrils and then take a nap.</p><p>Anyway. What was Shulk going on about?</p><p>Right. Sword Valley’s sad downfall. </p><p>Tyrea’s... well, Tyrea’s Tyrea. She single-handedly brought down ninety percent of the Fogbeast population when that fun little field trip happened. What was that fiasco all about, anyway? What is it with the similarities? Did the rift suddenly reappear and explode, thereby tossing a handful of the people that made it the most violently ill over to another world? Does this all mean something greater? Those are the exact type of questions Tyrea doesn’t care to ponder, because she’s too busy being productive, you know, killing monsters and finding her purpose in life.</p><p>Melia has always been something of a terror in battle. Two bolt discharges means most things die, an ice discharge adds in a powder keg, and an earth discharge sets it off. Of all the wild and wonderful things Shulk has had the displeasure of witnessing, he’s never met anyone else who can fire off three arts, disengage, walk away to grab a drink and a sweater, then come back later to collect the goods. That’s just—what’s the term? Soul-shakingly terrifying?</p><p>And the Ponspectors. Shulk already knew how alarmingly competent they were, what with the Union Strikes and the single-minded, rabid determination. That’s all nice and well, but then Melia decided to arm them with Rank VI crystals and offer them combat advice, thereby transforming an unruly but eager gaggle of Nopon into a war machine. </p><p>Sword Valley doesn’t stand a chance. Shulk almost feels sorry for the Mechon that have to deal with them.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Rigging up Galahad Fortress to explode is hilariously easy.</p><p>Tyrea has no idea how those... fluffy furballs of death and destruction managed to concentrate so much destructive potential into a wooden sphere, and honestly, she doesn’t want to know. Actually, she does want to know. She just doesn’t want to be the one to find out. Shulk can go get his face blown to bits on his own time. As long as he manages to make something more stable and also not wooden, Tyrea’s happy.</p><p>“That was awfully simple,” Melia says, because she’s somehow managed to wrap up faster than the practiced demolitionist.</p><p>Tyrea’s the practiced demolitionist. She’s immediately suspicious. “How on Bionis are you so good at this?” she demands. “Have you been blowing up fortresses while I’ve been gone?”</p><p>“Oh, not at all,” Melia says pleasantly. “I just think it’s therapeutic. Don’t you, Shulk?”</p><p>Shulk enjoys a full-body flinch. “Um, explosions aren’t really relaxing for me. Just surprising and, um, foreboding. I prefer reading.”</p><p>“You do tend to hole yourself up in the Imperial Library and forget to consume sustenance for days on end. Oh, I meant to tell you, but I believe I should be able to source those city operation manuals for you now. Since Alcamoth hasn’t been ravaged, I mean.”</p><p>“Really? Thank you so much! If—if you don’t mind, next time you have to go do paperwork, do you mind if I tag along?”</p><p>“Of course not. Your expertise would be appreciated.”</p><p>“Awesome! I’ve been thinking about revamping the Sustainable City plan, and I had some ideas—” </p><p>“Okay, conversation over,” Tyrea commands. It’s a miracle that Shulk and Melia are able to talk each other out of the circles they love to talk each other into at all. That’s messed up, but so is everything else, so Tyrea adapts. “Focus on your job, otherwise we’ll all die a horrible, fiery death.”</p><p>“Wunwun like fire,” Wunwun pipes up unhelpfully. “Destroy monsters and assert dominance all at once! B-B-Burninate!”</p><p>The rest of the Ponspectors then start chanting about how much they love arson. Tyrea figures this is all Melia’s fault.</p><p>“They’re getting much better at containing the damage,” Melia tries to assure Shulk, who peers at the various explosives nervously. “See? They aren’t even casting any arts. They’re just chanting away.”</p><p>“You don’t know how to get them to stop, do you?” Tyrea asks.</p><p>Melia sighs. “The Ponspectors latch onto phrases very quickly.”</p><p>Yeah, like that’s not obvious or anything. Tyrea still hears <em>PONSPECTORS ‘TIL WE DIE</em> in some of her less comprehensible nightmares.</p><p>Still, having twelve devious hands on board to help doesn’t hurt. They’re done in an hour, which beats out the old record by three times, and then they’re all safely evacuated and standing on the Bionis’ Wrist.</p><p>“Nonona perform hours!” Nonona declares. “Everyone ready to see fortress go <em>BOOM</em> or what?”</p><p>“Fortress explode!” the Ponspectors more or less cheer in unison.</p><p>Nonona raises one tiny hand up in the air. “Then it shall! Be! <em>Returned!</em>”</p><p>A furry hand slams down on the trigger. </p><p>There’s a pleasant silence for a second. Then a chain of explosions rocks the air, and just when you think, hey, that’s enough, surely it’s over now, another round starts up again. </p><p>Here’s a fun fact about Tyrea: she’s a bit of an overachiever. What can she say? It’s a habit that grew like a tumour back when she was desperate for any sort of affection.</p><p>Anyway, ignoring that embarrassing tidbit, it means that Tyrea excels at everything she puts her mind to. And she really, <em>really</em> wanted Galahad Fortress gone.</p><p>It takes about fifteen minutes for the last of the scattered explosions to wrap up.</p><p>“Tyrea,” Shulk says vacantly in the following silence, “did you just send the entire fortress careening into the ocean?”</p><p>Tyrea pulls out a pair of long-distance lenses and squints into them. That is, indeed, a very large chunk taken out of the Mechonis’ sword. “Looks like it.”</p><p>Melia places a hand against the small of Shulk’s back in the likely event that he passes out. “I suppose that’s one problem handled,” she says. “But I’m a little concerned about the Fallen Village, given that it’s situated within the projected debris field.”</p><p>That. Just that. Why is Melia so familiar with terms related to post-explosion events? Either she has some strange hobbies, or this expedition has awoken something dark and ominous within her. </p><p>Tyrea’s fine with both. If it makes her more effective at getting the job done, then so be it. “If your Egil’s really as nasty as you say, I’d bet that isn’t the first giant explosion above their skies. Prototypes tend to misbehave.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Shulk mutters. </p><p>Meanwhile, the Ponspectors are still screaming with rabid excitement. Someone needs to leash them before they charge the Mechonis and bring it down single-handedly. Freaks.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>With the raid on the Homs colonies brought to a destructive and fiery end, Melia proposes a simple plan of action: return to Alcamoth and recreate the Monado sheath but on a floating-city scale.</p><p>Before Tyrea can get started on how ridiculous the idea is, Shulk chimes in with a helpful, “Actually, if we can get an orbital ring of sorts set up around city limits, the rest should be straightforward.”</p><p>Melia appreciates Shulk greatly. Has she mentioned that before? She would like to mention it now just so everybody knows.</p><p>Even better, nobody mentions why Melia’s making such a request. A shield that can deflect high concentrations of ether in case a malevolent god tries to revive his personal army? Outrageous! Instead, consider the monthly damages caused by ether-infused shooting stars. Can you imagine how relieved Accounting will be? Can you fathom the financial benefits? The tears of joy?</p><p>“Orbital rings are nice,” Shulk says, seemingly out of nowhere. His eyes are a bit glazed and his hands appear to be trembling. “Yes. Orbital rings. Giant space rings that spin around giant extinct planets. How nice. I like the aesthetic.”</p><p>Tyrea places a bracing arm on his shoulder. She then makes eye contact with Melia and raises a brow as if to say, <em>how fucked up was your last escapade if he’s freaked out about</em> circles?</p><p>...Perhaps Melia should hand the project off to Alcamoth’s engineers.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The journey up the Eryth Sea goes smoothly, all things considered.</p><p>Shulk drafts up plans for the city-wide ether shield as best he can. He’s forced to stop by Tyrea, who loudly declares that his actions will, quote unquote, “result in permanent and lasting mental scars and none of us need any more of that garbage.” </p><p>Fair. Unfortunate, but fair. That doesn’t stop Shulk from quietly suggesting a few completely unrelated improvements to Melia about Alcamoth’s city-wide projection mainframe, or Syrath Lighthouse’s phenomenal distant weather detection system. </p><p>Melia quietly nods and jots down notes as well. It’s nice how they’re on the same page about these sorts of things.</p><p>Anyway, everything in Makna Forest is rightfully terrified of the Ponspectors, so Shulk lets himself relax a little. His good mood is destroyed immediately upon entering Frontier Village, where the Ponspectors shuffle them up to Apex Lake as discreetly as possible. </p><p>Certainly this isn’t any sort of smuggling, Shulk thinks to himself. He becomes less and less confident in that particular line of thinking, especially as he watches Tyrea shovel off a handful of Rainbow Slugs to a Nopon that refuses to make eye contact. </p><p>A few nerve-wracking minutes later, they’re standing comfortably on Latael Shore, gazing upon the majesty that is the not-destroyed High Entia capital.</p><p>The Ponspectors make assorted sounds of excitement. They—they’re collecting samples already? Of sand and water? </p><p>Melia lets out a long sigh. “This... this scene certainly registers differently when you aren’t fleeing from royal guards in a crazed panic.”</p><p>Before Shulk can get an encouraging word in, Tyrea lets out a furious, <em>“You left without telling anyone?”</em></p><p>Melia crosses her arms in practiced defiance. “And who would believe me?” she asks. “I would be sent to the emergency ward immediately and treated for ether deficiency, which you and I both know comes with a two-week stint leashed to a hunk of crystal.”</p><p>Shulk would like to say something, but he doesn’t know enough about High Entia medical procedures to be confident in his words, and he’s also not certain he wants to get in between Melia and Tyrea when they’re arguing.</p><p>“Did you even speak to the Emperor? Your brother?”</p><p>“They’d be the first to send me off to get treatment! You know how they are!”</p><p>“I know they love you and that they’re ready to flip the Bionis over to find you!”</p><p>“Indeed, my father and brother loved me,” Melia says bitterly, her unspoken thoughts a sharp, <em>but I realized too late and it doesn’t even matter in the end because that love is exactly what got them killed, just watch, one day I’ll die a miserable death because I can’t stop caring either.</em> “Thus, the sooner we dispose of Zanza, the sooner we can return home and get on with living.”</p><p>“You’re scared,” Tyrea says accusingly. “You don’t know how to tell them of their deaths, and how they sacrificed everything to save you.”</p><p>Well, now this is crossing into uncomfortable territory. Shulk raises his hand. “That’s true, yes, but I think that’s true for all of us. Not just Melia, I mean.”</p><p>Tyrea fixes him with an unsettling stare. She notably doesn’t argue.</p><p>Melia’s expression is a lot more sympathetic. “You... I’m assuming you ran into the night without explaining things first, also.”</p><p>“That’s an accurate assumption,” Shulk admits.</p><p>“And I’m also assuming that you disappeared while you were out on a mission, and Yumea is under the assumption that you’re dead,” Melia says pointedly to Tyrea.</p><p>Tyrea crosses her arms and glares at the water. The water recedes accordingly.</p><p>At least the Ponspectors are having fun. They’ve managed to accrue an unreasonable number of samples, given that their main focus is supposedly archeology and—oh, yup, there goes Drydry, screaming after an Eryth Hiln that’s stolen his hat. </p><p>The three of them watch as the Ponspectors leap onto each other, forming a perfect tower with Drydry lording above. A single Freezinate and a few seconds gives them scattered avian fragments and a hat on the beach, both of which are immediately pounced upon by rapid prey animals in khaki shirts.</p><p>Shulk feels this is all a horrible metaphor for something. It’s a feeling he’s had with increasing frequency in the past few weeks. </p><p>After a rather tense discussion on how to proceed with matters, Tyrea concludes that they might as well just schedule a private consultation with the Emperor. It’ll be embarrassing, nerve-wracking, and undeniably heartbreaking, but the prospect of three strangers appearing out of nowhere and demanding to build a giant metal ring around the city isn’t the brightest. Shulk doesn’t need his visions to see how quickly they’d be behind bars. </p><p>So they make their way to Alcamoth. Surely this can only go well.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The convenient thing about Alcamoth is the city council insists on keeping the teleporter to the High Entia Tomb completely available to the public.</p><p>Obviously it’s not accessible to the public, but it’s completely visible. Which brain-damaged architect thought that was a good idea? It’s the same as putting a <em>DO NOT STEP ON</em> sign over a pitfall that only occasionally has spikes at the bottom.</p><p>At least it makes for an easy trip. Tyrea’s only a little impressed as she watches Shulk pry off the metal casing and hotwire the thing to life. Melia seems less impressed through ease of long practice.</p><p>Huh. Shulk might make for a good accomplice on some of Tyrea’s more sketchy jobs. Then again, that level of adrenaline might seriously kill him, and Tyrea would rather her getaway driver not have a fatal cardiac event at the wheel and send them all into a ravine. Unfortunate.</p><p>Regardless, all this strange convenience means that they’re free to break into the High Entia Tomb and bring back some very incriminating evidence about both Lorithia and Mother. There’s something emotionally distressing in that quagmire, but Tyrea figures she should be over it by now. She elects to ignores it.</p><p>What she <em>doesn’t</em> ignore is the speed at which Melia and Shulk navigate the halls. </p><p>At first, Tyrea’s ready to take the reins on this flaming, speeding carriage ride and shuffle them all along. That’s her job, isn’t it? Making the on-fire ride a little more pleasant by frantically putting out the flames?</p><p>But of course Shulk and Melia speed right past her, and weirder still, Melia lets Shulk slap a hand on the verification device, and even weirder than that, they seem perfectly content getting tossed headlong into a giant pit and ruining their nice(ish) clothes.</p><p>Shulk pulls himself out of the pool with the motion of a veteran tomb robber. “Ruby Glasses?” he asks, seemingly out of nowhere.</p><p>“I’ve better gems,” is Melia’s entirely incomprehensible response.</p><p>So instead of being the coachmaster, Tyrea’s instead forced to charge after these two crazies as they furiously scale up and down and around, and—and into the lost Imperial Treasury? What the <em>fuck</em>, people?</p><p>“Where on Bionis did you get that,” Tyrea demands of Melia, because the High Entia Emblem is a stupidly valuable and legendary relic that should most definitely not be in the hands of some insane princess and her insane getaway driver.</p><p>Melia blinks innocently. Tyrea does not appreciate her ignorance. “Satorl Marsh.”</p><p>“Would you like some Grace Gloves?” Shulk asks Tyrea, pulling a pair of mysteriously shiny gloves out of the chest he’s just looted.</p><p>Tyrea tries glaring at both of them. Melia doesn’t even react, whereas Shulk just offers a guilty smile.</p><p>Great. Tyrea’s conditioned both of them to react to disdainful judgment the same way they’d respond to an unwelcome door-to-door salesman. She’s never going to be able to train them into normal people.</p><p>While Tyrea’s busy regretting every one of her life decisions, the Ponspectors are having a field day with everything shiny and ancient and whatnot. There’s excitement, and then there’s the Ponspectors. Some of them appear to be foaming at the mouth.</p><p>Tyrea signed up because she thought this would be a paying job, not a penance. </p><p>This is the very definition of a penance. She wants a lawyer.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“I’ve been wondering,” Melia says, snapping the fragile silence sitting between the Telethia Laboratory and her many bad memories, “what do you think was in those very shattered glass cells?”</p><p>Shulk studies the large glass shards with deep discomfort. “Possibly, um... I don’t really know how to put this gently. But. Possibly something we only realized after the Mechonis Core?”</p><p>“Yes, I thought as much.” Melia’s rather proud of her ability to maintain a normal conversation at a normal pace. She feels that this is an excellent opportunity to train her mind and improve her attitude toward all tragedies that might come in the future.</p><p>Shulk won’t stop throwing concerned looks at her. That’s very kind of him, but Melia is a strong person. Working off the statistics of how likely those around her are to randomly drop dead, she figures that if she herself hasn’t died by now, she’s effectively immortal.</p><p>In other news, Tyrea is criminally effective at finding incriminating evidence. Melia really shouldn’t be surprised. Ruining someone is much harder than killing them, and Tyrea’s always been up for a challenge.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>How is it that the only person who’s actually equipped to deal with the Emperor is Tyrea? That’s messed up, isn’t it? </p><p>Melia’s wearing her don’t-touch-me-I’m-fine mask again, which anyone who knows her even a little understands is a coping mechanism, and Shulk appears to be regulating his breathing and staring desperately at the sky. </p><p>Tyrea gets it. First Shulk sees a vision of the Emperor dying and proceeds to be able to do absolutely nothing to stop it, not to mention the part where the Emperor actually dies and Melia has to somehow work with that unwelcome surprise. </p><p>So yeah. Tyrea understands. She doesn’t have to like it, though.</p><p>“Either you wear something presentable or you go naked,” Tyrea firmly informs her motley crew, who react to clothes shopping the same way normal people would react to open heart surgery. </p><p>Melia, the only one approaching civilized among them, nods firmly. “We should try and make a good impression. The less we resemble hardened criminals, the better our chances.”</p><p>Shulk looks like he’s been stabbed and is only just realizing it. In typical fashion, he isn’t too broken up about it. Just sad and regretful. The kid needs a break from life. </p><p>The Ponspectors are exempt only because their khakis are practically sewn directly into their flesh, and Tyrea has a sneaking suspicion that they’d bite her hand off if she tried to introduce something else into their wardrobe. </p><p>With everyone cleaned up and appearing only distantly related to hardened criminals, Tyrea herds them all to a restaurant, exchanging a short five-second standoff with the greeter when she demands a table for fifteen. </p><p>Getting sustenance into everyone seems to have calmed things down somewhat. Tyrea should really employ this strategy more often.</p><p>Anyway, the Ponspectors are masters of random small talk and excited rambling, which by extension also makes them masters of distraction. Shulk chews through his meal while making light conversation, and Melia’s finally stopped looking over her shoulder to see if royal guards are going to leap out of the curtains. </p><p>Nobody has any faith in Tyrea. Obviously she paid off every employee and coerced them with threats of physical violence. She’s not an idiot.</p><p>But hey: everyone should loosen up a little, right? Of course right. Bring on the drinks, world!</p><p>Melia’s out like a light after two, and not the <em>someone flipped the circuit breaker</em> kind of out. It’s more a selective, careful <em>I turned on the light and everything was horrible so I’m turning it off and pretending I saw nothing</em> sort of out. Tyrea thinks she might just be trying to bunker down under a pile of sleepy Ponspectors before the storm hits. </p><p>Tyrea hates being right sometimes. This, surprisingly, is not one of those times.</p><p>There’s nothing to do but watch in abject horror as Shulk downs three shots back-to-back like a champ, proudly declares that he’s going to kill god, makes three failed attempts to find and brandish the True Monado, then bursts into blubbering tears at the sight of the heart-shaped Tropical Radish garnishes because they’re “so tiny, Tyrea! What happens if I ruin them? I ruin everything I touch!”</p><p>See, that’s worrying, but Tyrea has a flawless strategy: changing the subject. “How about you tell me about Colony 9?”</p><p>Shulk sniffles up the last of his tears. Then he melts into a dopey smile. “I like Colony 9,” he says dreamily.</p><p>Hekasa pushes another drink his way. </p><p>Tyrea gives Hekasa a long, blank look. Hekasa holds it with unsettling ease. Tyrea takes a moment to consider the very real fact that Hekasa’s the veteran’s veteran among the Ponspectors and has probably lived twenty years of drowning her frustrations after every budget meeting.</p><p>Scary. Also, Shulk’s going on about one of his many ridiculous sidequests now, so that’s nice.</p><p>“So then I say, Desiree, I appreciate you as a person and deeply relate to your uncertainty about life, but I’m pretty much a stranger and I think it’s incredibly irresponsible of you to put your future in my hands, like, honestly, you’ve <em>seen</em> what happens when the future gets put in my hands, you’ve definitely heard the screaming meltdowns, I do not appreciate this,” Shulk somehow manages in one breath. With his next he downs half the glass. </p><p>This kid is a <em>monster</em>. Not that he’s aware of it at all, but this entire performance is an education. “Tell me more,” Tyrea demands. </p><p>Shulk slaps his hand down on the table. “Okay,” he starts up again, surprisingly coherent considering how incoherent he’s going to be tomorrow morning. “So I say, alright, Desiree, what’s it between? And she says, well, I can either be a sculptor or a Defense Force sniper. And internally I’m like, <em>really?</em> Your choices are between a knife and a gun? But whatever, I’m stupid, I don’t make good choices either. But then it’s like, okay, art isn’t going to get you a ton of money, you don’t like being alone in some studio somewhere all day long, weirdo, can’t relate. But also it’s like, explosions and headshots! So cool! You know what’s also cool? Trauma and the looming threat of death! And it’s up to me to decide, and I really have to ask, why do people keep asking me to do things for them? Probably because they think I’m quasi-immortal since I didn’t die back on that expedition all those years ago and I’m probably cursed, ha ha, funny story, I need to tell it to you sometime. Where was I?”</p><p>“Sculptor or sniper.”</p><p>“Right. So we’ve established that I’m awful at making decisions, and here’s Desiree asking me to help decide her eternal damnation for her. But obviously I didn’t know it at the time, right? Since I zoned out completely because her story was really, really long, and I think the only one who wasn’t asleep by the end was Melia. Since she’s used to all sorts of people saying all sorts of terrible things to her and all.”</p><p>Shulk doesn’t even give Tyrea a moment to process that incredibly insightful and gutting statement. Rude.</p><p>“Therefore,” Shulk declares confidently, “I say, Desiree, I have a friend who likes shooting things. She tells me it’s therapeutic and helps sort out her burning hatred. Also, I’m convinced that Kenny Rohan is a cryptid and sustains himself on the lifeblood of tortured artists. We live in a very troubling age. You should totally shoot things.”</p><p>“So she’s a sniper now.”</p><p>“Yeah!”</p><p>“Weird littlepon,” Hekasa mutters to herself. Tyrea agrees wholeheartedly.</p><p>She’s not about to tell Shulk to stop, though. He’s an adult and deserves to make his own decisions, although that statement is stupid recursive because half of him is terrified of fate and the other half is terrified of freedom. Also, he’s getting fired up about some Dorothy and Heart Peaches, and Tyrea’s not about to just give up free tickets to a good show.</p><p>It occurs to Tyrea a few hours in that splitting hangovers don’t pair well with royal courts. It also occurs to her that the world can go die in a hole. Revelations all night long, really.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Shulk has many regrets. </p><p>He feels that last night would be counted among them, but he can’t remember enough to be certain. All he has to go off of is Tyrea’s knowing smirk, which makes him very nervous and very embarrassed, but that raises the question if he’s being unreasonable again, because he’s well aware that it’s simple to work himself up into a crisis before breakfast, and— </p><p>See? Instant spiral. This is just another reason Shulk shouldn’t be allowed to think. </p><p>Breathe, Shulk, breathe. You know how to do that. Rather, even you can do that. Be a functioning person. You can do it!</p><p>So Shulk makes himself look presentable and forces himself to eat something. He meets the rest of the group outside the hotel, relieved to find that he isn't the last to join. </p><p>That’s comparing himself to the Ponspectors, of course, which says a few things about his standards. </p><p>Headache aside, Shulk feels... surprisingly okay. The headache isn’t nice, but he’s operated under far worse. Melia appears to be in the same boat, whereas Tyrea’s general demeanor makes it spectacularly difficult to read anything about her at all.</p><p>“Okay, so here’s the plan,” Tyrea tells them all, once the last of the Ponspectors have finally shuffled out sleepily. “We’re all good friends with no past animosity whatsoever. Melia ran away because she can do whatever she wants, and the Ponspectors found her in Makna. Instant friendship. Shulk’s a seer since that’s the simplest available option, and I’m an Inquisitor who’s realized the error of my ways. Behold, the god-killing club. Questions?”</p><p>Melia raises her hand. “How do I explain my sudden rebellious streak?”</p><p>“You don’t,” Tyrea tells her. “Besides, we’ve got bigger problems.”</p><p>“Like the part where I have to build a giant ether shield?” Shulk suggests.</p><p>“The part where <em>we</em> build a giant ether shield and <em>you</em> take a nap,” Tyrea corrects. </p><p>“Maybe I should leave out the part where I beat Lorithia to death with a stick,” Melia contemplates aloud.</p><p>“Maybe we should—obviously we should leave it out! If anyone asks, we found Lorithia performing some strange ritual at the Bionis’ Interior, which we subsequently confronted her about, resulting in a long, evil monologue and a massive explosion that killed her and resulted in a great deal of collateral damage.” </p><p>“We should also do something about the First Consort before things get out of hand,” Shulk points out.</p><p>“Literally why do you think I’m here,” Tyrea says resentfully. “The entire Bionite Order needs an audit, and I’m their worst nightmare.”</p><p>“She has a point,” Melia concedes. She makes deliberate eye contact with Shulk. The quiet <em>let’s not argue for fear of death</em> is a little terrifying. “Tyrea’s handled it before. She was very... thorough.”</p><p>That’s a given. A very scary given, but still. Good point well made.</p><p>“Ponspectors request promised funding,” Wunwun pipes up, eliciting a wave of grammatically broken agreement. </p><p>Tyrea closes her eyes and lets out a slow, patient breath. </p><p>Shulk thinks the accusations of Tyrea’s rampant violence are grossly exaggerated. Never will he meet anyone with better self-control.</p></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(i stir a copious amount of sugar into my tea while i watch you bash your head on the doorframe coming in) ah hello traveler. you must be very confused. you must be amazed someone can write something so specifically tailored toward their own tastes. don't worry. i assure you i am even more confused than you are</p><p>xenoblade chronicles has incredible characters with incredible depth. i unfortunately lack the emotional availability to write an introspective piece without giving myself an existential crisis. i therefore present to you this hellfire, in which i take my favourite characters from the game (PONSPECTORS ESPECIALLY) and have them trip through time and sequence break their way into the world's most convoluted speedrun. </p><p>feel free to talk to me at my <a href="https://twitter.com/novalotypo">twitter</a>! i'm always open to talking about xenoblade!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. a slip of the hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div><p>To nobody’s surprise, their resident seer, part-time world administrator is conveniently absent.</p>
<p>Tyrea’s not surprised. She doesn’t know Alvis the same way Melia and Shulk do, thank the Bionis for that. She’s content in her ignorance, which is a thought she’d normally flay herself for, but Alvis is <em>Alvis</em>. He’s the pinnacle of diversion and intrigue. He’s the fancy-pants mystery man. </p>
<p>Shulk can go work himself into a crisis because of it all. Tyrea doesn’t have that sort of taste or that sort of time.</p>
<p>Anyway, playing the court is hilariously simple. The Emperor almost passes out in shock when Melia casually strolls in, and Kallian’s eyeballs look like they’re trying to rocket out of his skull. Melia’s personal guard enjoys one shared aneurysm. In the meantime, Mother’s giving Tyrea some very pointed looks. </p>
<p>That should be a fun can of worms to pry open and dump over everybody’s head. </p>
<p>Shulk doesn’t know how lucky he is not to be a troubled superstar in good old Alcamoth. He’s worked himself into a carefully concealed panic anyway, so good for him. Puts them all on the same on-fire playing field.</p>
<p>Introductions are given, questions are asked. Tyrea would go into more detail, but she seriously doesn’t have the emotional capacity to care about how surprised and worried everyone is, etc, etc. Melia strongarms her way through every question about her wellbeing. Shulk dips his head respectfully and slaps out sincerity and lies like hotcakes. The Ponspectors are literally the only genuine ones out of the bunch, and they’re panhandling for funds. </p>
<p>Witness, world, the power of mortal integrity. Ugh. </p>
<p>Tyrea figures she should step in before things trip off the deep end. “Your Majesty,” she says, “I understand that this will come as a shock, and I accept any suspicion or scepticism that might be directed toward me as a result. But I’d like to present some topics to the court that I think would be of particular interest to some parties present.”</p>
<p>Oh, those are <em>definitely</em> targeting eyes Tyrea’s getting from Mother now. It’s good that their relationship is so messed up. It makes the ranting accusations that much easier to deliver.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It’s undoubtedly rude to be mumbling away while Tyrea’s debating every court official to tears, but Melia feels she’s had a long enough day to justify a few quips. </p>
<p>“I didn’t know we had strings and pins,” she whispers to Shulk. </p>
<p>“Or red marker,” Shulk adds, with deep horror.</p>
<p>Tyrea has moved onto Lorithia’s various atrocities now, so that should be fun. Melia’s going to have to step in and carefully explain why Lorithia was an objectively bad person without revealing unto all of Alcamoth the secrets of their genetic code. </p>
<p>That can wait until after the ether shield’s done. Or if the court decides to be stubborn. Melia’s ready to ruin someone’s day if they choose to make the wild supposition that their god doesn’t need to be killed, and goodness, does she have an arsenal of day-ruining stories to pick from.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Shulk isn’t exactly sure how everything turned out the way it did. He’s still struggling to process most of the past two hours. </p>
<p>Oh, he saw it all go down, of course, but seeing and believing are two very different things, and Shulk isn’t about to say he understands everything. Last time he did, the world laughed so hard and for so long that it forgot to explain to him his purpose in life. So.</p>
<p>Shulk feels he should make labels for himself. He makes labels for the machines in his lab: <em>FRAGILE, DO NOT TOUCH, HANDLE WITH CARE</em>. Surely he could fashion up some to plaster on his forehead.</p>
<p>Anyway, back to reality. The First Consort is probably enjoying her new prison cell, whereas Tyrea’s definitely isn’t enjoying being grilled by the royal guard. Melia has every right to some private discussions with her father and brother.</p>
<p>That leaves Shulk and the Ponspectors to loiter in the Whitewing Palace. </p>
<p>The Ponspectors don’t seem particularly pleased with being detained in a place that isn’t an ancient ruin, and Shulk doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts. So he compromises. </p>
<p>“Want to help me draft up ideas for an orbital ring?” he asks the room at large.</p>
<p>Twelve pairs of tiny, evil eyes swivel onto him. </p>
<p>Leave it to the Ponspectors to displace every nightmare Shulk can fathom with their own nightmarish existence.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Melia considers herself a very patient individual. Her entire life has been a back-and-forth of waiting, waiting, oops, there goes a lost opportunity, more waiting, say goodbye to your entire family and race, and may I propose some waiting?</p>
<p>The point she’s trying to make is that her patience is severely tried.</p>
<p>All of this begins when her father and brother pull her aside to speak with her privately. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Certainly it’s to be expected, no? Melia supposedly had a sudden, desperate rebellious outburst that resulted in her throwing herself out of her bedroom window and fleeing to obscure corners of the Bionis, not to mention escaping every guard ever through sheer force of will. Of course she needs to explain. </p>
<p>She simply can’t find the right words to say, if at all, so she puts on her best and most regal expression and waits for the storm to blow over. Except it doesn’t. </p>
<p>Why did you run away from home? Why didn’t you tell any of us why you left? You haven’t answered the first one, by the way. What are you doing with an Inquisitor? What are you doing with a Homs? What on Bionis is wrong with those Nopon? What on Bionis is wrong with that horrid <em>sheath?</em> Why do you seem so determined to fight and dethrone god?</p>
<p>That last question isn’t actually asked, but Melia’s so overwhelmed at that point she convinces herself that it has indeed been posed. </p>
<p>She’s fine, really. All she needs is a nap. Wall and fortitude, here we come!</p>
<p>Melia almost feels bad for Father and Kallian, having to sit through her horrifying story of how everything that could have gone wrong went wrong but on an unbelievably cosmic scale, complete with alarming remarks about how the entirety of Alcamoth was invaded by strange fog demons sourced from an alien rift. Truly remarkable, how Melia’s mind operates. </p>
<p>Fortunately, the conversation ends early, because Tyrea kicks the door down and demands that Melia join her and Shulk for dinner. Certainly there would be a furious debate, but then the Ponspectors charge in demanding to start construction on an orbital ring now now <em>now</em>, which terrifies and distracts everyone so badly that it allows Tyrea to hoist Melia over her head and escape out the window.</p>
<p>Shulk jumps out after them. A chain of fuzzy yellow orbs sprints after him. Many flowers suffer a terrible fate beneath their feet. Melia really needs to give her horticulturists a raise.</p>
<p>Back to the same restaurant they flee. Tyrea either knows the owner personally or the owner’s a little touched in the head, because the greeter barely bats an eye and locks the door behind them as soon as they file in.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Tyrea finally declares. “Not bad, all things considered.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure I agree,” Shulk says dubiously. </p>
<p>“Is anyone dead or in jail?” Ringing silence. “That’s what I thought. I’m sure we’d all love to work out our problems, slap emotional bandages over our boo-boos. But tough. Alright, engineer, let’s see what you have for the ether shield right now, since you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”</p>
<p>Shulk sheepishly slides his schematics onto the table. Neither Tyrea nor Melia have the engineering expertise to truly comprehend the details, but what they do have is a discerning eye for whether or not something looks completed enough to send off to the royal engineers. </p>
<p>“Can we source this alloy?” Tyrea asks Melia, after a long, contemplative silence. </p>
<p>Melia nods. “We can mine the ore at Kromar Coast and Anu Shore, then synthesize it in our labs. Once our labs are sufficiently prepared, we should be able to harvest at the Shoulder as well.”</p>
<p>“Can also synthesize at weird lab in High Entia Tomb,” Wunwun adds. “Very impressive ether accelerator there!”</p>
<p>Melia assumes that by <em>ether accelerator</em> he means a lab instrument and not a staff. It sounds very impressive and not something any Nopon should be familiar with.</p>
<p>“Why... why do you know what an ether accelerator is?” Shulk asks faintly.</p>
<p>Wunwun beams. “Plenty of Nopon trade take place all over Bionis! Ponspectors research all reading material very thoroughly to guarantee one hundred and fifteen percent customer satisfaction!”</p>
<p>“No, I—I get that. But we only started publishing our proposals for ether accelerators a few months—um, a year or so from now. And I really doubt Lorithia would let that kind of information get out into the public so easily.”</p>
<p>“Friend talking in circles,” Wunwun says disapprovingly. “Papers not from Bionis. From Mechonis, where all cool tech come from!”</p>
<p>He’s not wrong. It’s just surprising that any Nopon would be able to somehow find written manuals on how to operate any kind of Machina technology. Then again, if a being like Zanza managed to break the world however many million years ago, of course the Ponspectors would be able to punch holes in reality with half the effort. </p>
<p>“We’ll keep that in mind when we make our march on Mechonis,” Melia decides. She turns back to a very confused Shulk with a placating expression. “These plans are very well prepared, Shulk. Thank you. I know it must’ve been difficult.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, it was my pleasure,” Shulk says quickly, going from wary confusion to overwhelming embarrassment in the blink of an eye. “I’m interested to see what I can do with Rhadamanthus, since no Homs technology has really been able to recreate—” </p>
<p>“Hang on,” Tyrea interrupts. “Rhadamanthus? Is that a theatre troupe?”</p>
<p>Shulk blinks vacantly. Then he tries on a wobbly smile. Both are very bad signs that demand immediate distractions. “It’s just a neat name,” he says evenly, as Melia orders one more of everything on the menu. “Since we’re on the topic of orbital rings and all. I don’t want to jinx anything, but I thought it would be nice to honour those that have fallen before us, and—” </p>
<p>“Oh boy, food,” Tyrea interjects again, deliberately shoving a piece of deep-fried fish into Shulk’s mouth. </p>
<p>While Shulk chews absently, Tyrea gives Melia a very loud <em>DOES HE HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF FOREIGN WORLDS</em> look, to which Melia responds with an equally as loud <em>I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW IF IT WOULD BE HEALTHY TO ASK.</em></p>
<p>The sound of organized clanking startles everyone into high alert. This includes Shulk, who abandons chewing altogether. The greeter, who’d previously been very obviously eavesdropping and has thus had his day entirely ruined, puts on a determined expression and waves them all into the back room. </p>
<p>It truly is a surreal scene. Melia, Tyrea, Shulk, and the Ponspectors hurriedly tiptoe to crouch beside assorted fruits and vegetables while the chefs try not to brandish their knives too obviously.</p>
<p>Honestly, Melia should hire chefs on her personal guard instead of off-brand soldiers. She means no disrespect—well, actually, she does, but her spite is all aimed at the Alcamoth Imperial Barrack’s terrible training regimen. </p>
<p>What do you mean, you don’t have basic jungle survival skills? What are you going to do when you’re hunting down a Named Monster only to have a passing Deinos Sauros eat half your party? What do you mean, you only know how to use a sword and spear? Have none of you ever had to bash something to death with only a rock? Pride is useless without experience. Do I have to hire professional musicians in your place? Certainly they have both. Do <em>you</em> have any real experience? Do you think your pride will save you? Do <em>I</em> look like I have any pride?</p>
<p>Melia doesn’t say any of that. She simply thinks it. She’s bitter about a lot of things.</p>
<p>“Miss Melly frowning again,” Wunwun says quietly. “Something wrong? Confide in Ponspectors, Miss Melly!”</p>
<p>You know, it’s been a very taxing day, and those words sound so much like Riki that Melia might just be crying a little. </p>
<p>Now Shulk and Tyrea are incredibly concerned, and with both of them being just as inept as Melia in terms of emotional reassurance, all anyone manages to do is huddle in close and attempt to offer half-hugs. </p>
<p>The chefs are throwing back short but worried glances, too, so that’s yet another reason Melia should hire them. </p>
<p>Anyway. Melia’s inner turmoil aside, the greeter sounds like he’s having an absolutely gleeful time explaining how he hasn’t seen or heard anything suspicious. The waiters are more than happy to back him up on this notion, eagerly chanting about how they went that way, no, they went <em>that</em> way, and no, you’re wrong, they actually fled the city altogether and now they’re heading to Frontier Village!</p>
<p>The soldiers manage to thank everyone for their time through serious patience and effort. Then they leave. </p>
<p>Melia stands up and determinedly pretends like she’s alright. Then a sudden thought creeps into her exhausted mind. “Did... did I just make a reappearance after weeks of mysterious silence, only to immediately flee again?”</p>
<p>“Sounds like it,” the greeter answers unhelpfully. </p>
<p>Tyrea glares at him. The greeter shrugs. When Tyrea turns back to tally up their odds in her head, she resorts to a shrug as well. “Like you said, the faster we wrap things up, the faster we can all take a month-long nap. And for the love of everything holy, <em>eat</em>. You’ll burn yourselves out at this rate.”</p>
<p>“Amen,” Shulk mutters, tired enough to openly taunt god. </p>
<p>At least the Ponspectors appear to be having a good time. Isn’t that nice? Little bundles of joy, those special little Nopon. If nobody else is going to hug them, well, Melia isn’t going to argue. More for her.</p>
<p>The rest of the food arrives, the Ponspectors come close to murdering each other for the supposed “bestest pieces”, Tyrea starts ordering drinks, and Melia figures it’s time to take a nap when Shulk takes a deep breath and downs a pitcher of bright red cocktail in one go.</p>
<p>Tyrea makes a sound like she’s been punched in the gut. The greeter and waiters are all getting far too invested in this impromptu drinking competition, what with the chanting and the cheering and the suggestion to print Shulk’s face on a shirt and sell it as merchandise. All this serves as excellent motivation for Shulk to prove his weight in alcohol. </p>
<p>Anyone who calls Shulk timid and weak has no idea what they’re talking about. </p>
<p>Give the boy a sword and he’ll kill a god. Give the boy a lab and he’ll optimize every piece of machinery in the city. Give the boy a drink and he’ll regale the room with a journey so moving everyone can’t help but fall in love with him. That last one’s neither here nor there, of course.</p>
<p>Very bad decision-making skills abound today, in all.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Shulk finds himself in awe of Melia rather frequently.</p>
<p>How does he explain it? Well... her strength, for one, both in and out of combat. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes will tell you that Melia Antiqua is absolutely lethal with a staff. It takes a lot more looking for those same eyes to admit that, yes, Melia Antiqua has a very strong heart and breaks tragedy over her knee like lumber. </p>
<p>Lumber is not typically processed over one’s knee. Shulk hopes the metaphor sticks. </p>
<p>Melia is a princess-turned-empress. She has duties. She chose to perform those duties, even when her race suffered a mass genetic malfunction and her homeland evicted itself without prior notice. </p>
<p>A very reasonable argument could be made for running away screaming into the horizon in the face of all that... comically horrific bad luck, for lack of a better term. But Melia stayed. She did more than stay—she gathered up all her strength, consisting of herself, her staff, and her friends, and she charged headlong into the fire and the flames without any consideration for herself. </p>
<p>Some people would say: well, obviously. She can summon water elementals. She was practically born to be a firefighter. It must’ve been an easy decision.</p>
<p>To which Shulk would say: have you ever <em>seen</em> a cosmically-sparked ether fire fueled by divine arrogance? No? Then please, take a seat. </p>
<p>With all the general terribleness making up the unfortunate majority of Melia’s life, it’s something of a miracle that she insists on pushing through, day by day. Then comes the wave of arguments saying, no, she had to stay, it’s her duty. It’s her <em>birthright</em>. Who else would have stepped up?</p>
<p>See, the thing about that is... no? It’s not all that correct?</p>
<p>Leaders are good. Leaders are necessary, to an extent. Shulk thinks anyone who has the courage to put themselves in the limelight and make public speeches is halfway to a monster and three-quarters to a god. Therefore, Melia Antiqua, by virtue of existing and making the decisions that she has, is leaps and bounds more powerful than a ten-ton monkey with an electric guitar and light years ahead of a golden-prick god armed with all ego and zero common sense. </p>
<p>Basically Melia could kill god, is what Shulk is trying to say. With Tyrea, Shulk, and the Ponspectors hyping her up? Melia <em>will</em> kill god.</p>
<p>Shulk’s also trying to make the point that just because someone would be good as a leader doesn’t mean they have to do anything. Just because someone’s born one way or another doesn’t mean they have to be anything but the something of their own choosing. Every choice is fundamentally your own. Omnipotence just plays off those choices. </p>
<p>One of these days, Shulk’s going to sit Melia down and tell her how he thinks she’s incredibly strong for choosing to be the person she is when it would’ve been so easy to turn the other way and live an equally as respectable and objectively easier life. </p>
<p>He thinks he might just create an infinite feedback loop, though. Melia’s much more forthcoming about some things than Shulk is, and sometimes she makes absurd statements about how she thinks <em>Shulk</em> is an inspiration for... frighteningly similar reasons. </p>
<p>Okay. That’s a little strange. But they’re friends! They’ll talk it out.</p>
<p>Wow. Shulk’s really in a good mood today! Positivity works!</p>
<p>“I think this note should suffice,” Melia says, lifting said note and examining with deep skepticism. She offers the parchment to Shulk. “Will you give me your opinion?”</p>
<p>Shulk accepts the note. He squints at it. </p>
<p>It reads: <em>Father, Brother, and all other concerned individuals: I leave with my friends on my own volition, as there is a matter of extreme importance that we must resolve immediately. I kindly ask that you begin construction on the Rhadamanthus (ether shield, orbital ring, general catch-all defensive retaliation system) as per the detailed instructions. </em></p>
<p>Those detailed instructions are Shulk’s frantic scribbles, accompanied by Hekasa’s tried-and-true proposal outline to put it all into comprehensible words. Below, in Tyrea’s practiced hand, is a simple but brutally effective plan on how to weed out secret cults and ease their members into society while considering their unique strengths and the root trauma they likely share. </p>
<p>Back to Melia’s handwriting are further details on what she’s learned, what she plans to do, and how she’s sorry. Shulk tears his eyes away from the paper by the third point and hurriedly hands it back to Melia. “It’s really good,” he says. “Do you think this will keep them calm for now?”</p>
<p>“Nothing will keep them calm,” Tyrea states flatly, climbing in through the hotel window, because Tyrea. “This will at least prevent any potential conniptions. We’ve already blown up one heart. Best to keep it that way.”</p>
<p>“That heart belonged to a very bad person,” Melia says defiantly.</p>
<p>Shulk has to concede that this is true. However. “If we don’t need to blow anything else up, then we probably shouldn’t.”</p>
<p>“Listen to the boy, he’s being reasonable,” Tyrea suggests with a roll of her eyes. She then tosses two heavy-duty travel cloaks onto the table, presumably the reason behind her midnight escapade. “Everyone packed? Good. I’ll sneak the note into the audience room, and then we can set out.”</p>
<p>“Already?” Melia asks, only mildly taken aback. “I thought we were staying for at least a few more days.”</p>
<p>“Do <em>you</em> want to find out if an angry, chained god can induce not-so spiritual organ failure?”</p>
<p>Ah. Yes, that’s a valid point.</p>
<p>Tyrea snorts in response to their awkward silence. “That’s what I thought. Get moving. The Ponspectors are already lined up outside at the teleporter.”</p>
<p>“With... with the night guard?” Shulk tries hesitantly.</p>
<p>“With the <em>unconscious</em> night guard,” Tyrea corrects. She makes no attempt to elaborate and instead begins counting through her pouch of Rainbow Slugs, leaving Melia and Shulk to silently slip into their very efficient and highly suspect clothing. </p>
<p>By the time Tyrea meets them at the teleporters, she’s wearing a pinched grimace. It’s the kind of self-deprecating look Shulk recognizes from many late nights in the lab bathroom. </p>
<p>“We should go,” she says urgently. </p>
<p>Melia sighs. “Kallian was up doing some self-reflection, wasn’t he?”</p>
<p>“I hate that any of us are related,” Tyrea says casually, and since Melia doesn’t even bat an eye, Shulk can only assume that this is a sentiment that gets vocalized rather often. “Alright, move out, get going, whatever. Nobody’s insane enough to chase us all the way through Sword Valley.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, Scary Bird Lady underestimate Special Ops Unit of Royal Guard,” Wunwun mutters. “Very persistent and ask intrusive questions like, ‘why Ponspector break into Royal Archives and only leave with royal recipe book?’ and not appreciate at all when Ponspector tell truth and say, ‘dietary studies of incredible importance to preservation of knowledge and should be available to public for further research!’ Very rude! Very annoying!”</p>
<p>“Wonderful,” Tyrea says. “Now move before I throw you all down and make you swim to shore.”</p>
<p>The funny thing there is Shulk and Melia have, in fact, done exactly that. Who knew landmarks and locations on a map were so powerful? Not them!</p>
<p>But nobody with half a brain would willingly cross an agitated Tyrea, and Shulk’s not about to be yet another person to have <em>he was a generally alright person, but then one day he took an axe to Abaasy and was punished accordingly</em> as his eulogy. </p>
<p>So off across the teleporters they flee, all while the Special Ops unit of the Royal Guard furiously screams at them to stop. What an exciting experience this trip has been.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Tyrea hates being wrong. She <em>hates</em> it. </p>
<p>So she let a little assumption slip in her haste to get everyone out of Eryth Sea in one piece. Foolish, but forgivable. </p>
<p>Normally, she would blame herself. Do better next time, Tyrea. Don’t disappoint anyone this time, Tyrea. All good and well, except for the fact that those idiots chased them all the way across Sword Valley.</p>
<p>To elaborate: that’s past Eryth Sea, deep into Makna Forest, all the way down Valak Mountain, and <em>all the way across Sword Valley.</em></p>
<p>Melia looks like she wants to say something smart, throw in a quip or two, but she wisely chooses to swallow them down in place of hurling Aerial Cloak VI and Quick Step VI at every single one of their party members. That’s thirty gems of decent rarity, jingling around in little miss perfect’s pockets. What the fuck. </p>
<p>“So,” Shulk says frantically, before Tyrea can demand what else Melia’s been hoarding, “is anyone going to ask why Alcamoth has a Special Ops Unit, and <em>especially</em> why they have a Havres squadron?”</p>
<p>“Blame Alvis and move on,” Tyrea snaps. They all duck under a giant slab of scaffolding, then vault over assorted piles of debris. “Everything wrong with this timeline is all his fault, because obviously it’s not ours.”</p>
<p>“I’m inclined to agree,” Melia says, unruffled. She spins around as soon as the scaffolding finishes over their heads and tosses a wind discharge at the speeding ships. They scurry out of the way like a flock of startled Hiln. </p>
<p>Luckily, nobody seems all that keen on firing at them. A pack of chaotic vigilantes they might be, but tagging along with those chaotic vigilantes is the heir to the imperial throne, running here, there, everywhere. Unless anybody up in those glorified hang gliders has pinpoint accuracy and wants to risk putting an ether cartridge through sterling darling Melia’s back without being able to fix it up afterward, then it’s a standoff. A very tense, fast-moving standoff.</p>
<p>So this is going great. If Tyrea knew that Sword Valley’s unfortunate lack of Mechon obstacles was going to come back and take a bat over their heads, she would’ve only blown up <em>part</em> of the fortress. </p>
<p>“Big hole in sight!” Setset announces. He’s not wrong. “What friends do next?”</p>
<p>Melia and Shulk whirl to face Tyrea. Obviously this is Tyrea’s problem now since she’s the only one with a public criminal record. </p>
<p>The giant, screeching, metallic mess of a hole really doesn’t make for a welcome sight. Tyrea thinks quickly. “You two said you made an emergency landing last time you fell from the fortress, right?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Shulk says warily. </p>
<p>“Great,” Tyrea tells him. “You’re going to love this one, then.”</p>
<p>She peers back to make sure that the Ponspectors are ready to go. Of course they are. They’re grabbing onto each other and have their flags up like parasails, those fuzzy balls of evil. The world could go up in a giant mushroom cloud and they’d be there to sample the fallout. </p>
<p>Then Tyrea slithers her arms around Shulk and Melia’s objectively tiny waists and hoists them off their feet. The wind screams incomprehensibly under the gaping, handmade cliff.</p>
<p>“Oh no,” Shulk says faintly, presumably ready to accept death.</p>
<p>“Oh joy,” Melia voices disdainfully, probably more upset about ruining her new clothes than anything else.</p>
<p>“Don’t be rude,” Tyrea snaps at her ungrateful allies. </p>
<p>The yelling up on the Havres is really ramping up. Tyrea figures it’s probably best not to stay long enough to discern what they’re trying to say.</p>
<p>She takes a deep breath and jumps.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Shulk wakes up with a mouthful of sand and unfamiliar aches all over his body.</p>
<p>First off: while Shulk is familiar with waking up and blearily recalling putting questionable items in his oral cavity (pumpkin, wrench, prototype 48-Hour Energy), he usually has the mental capacity to also remove them. Second: any unfamiliar aches must be bad aches, because Shulk’s life is like this to such a degree that sometimes he wonders if he didn’t end up killing Zanza after all, or if he <em>did</em> kill Zanza, and that particular ghost has taken it upon himself to knock over every mug on Shulk’s lab desk and steal all the nice pens.</p>
<p>Great. Now the labs need an exorcist on top of a personal fire department. This is probably a metaphor for some larger lesson, but Shulk figures if he hasn’t learnt it by now, he’s probably a lost cause.</p>
<p>Clearly not good signs. He groans, rolls over, and is promptly greeted with more sand. And the smell of salt. All of which is adding up to something very beachy and vaguely familiar.</p>
<p>Ah. Right.</p>
<p>Today didn’t seem like all that great of a day to get tossed off the Bionis, but to Tyrea’s credit, no day, regardless of how unlucky or generally bad, is a good day to get tossed off the Bionis.</p>
<p>Shulk pushes himself up to his feet. His knees buckle immediately, and distantly, he hears Sharla sweetly telling him that coffee is not a suitable replacement for lifeblood and to eat three meals a day, all while wiping down her ether rifle the same way one would skin an Armu. </p>
<p>On the topic of terrifying supervision, Tyrea’s steadying grip materializes around Shulk’s waist out of nowhere before he can enjoy another faceful of sand.</p>
<p>“Oh look, he’s awake,” Tyrea says unsympathetically. “Enjoy your nap?”</p>
<p>Shulk sneezes. Sand explodes from his nostrils. “Did I hit my head or did I pass out?”</p>
<p>“I assume you passed out, given you haven’t emptied the contents of your skull onto the beach.” And there’s Melia, ducking out from thick foliage armed with White Plums. “How do you feel? I understand that Homs aren’t as used to impromptu trips out of the sky as High Entia.”</p>
<p>Possibly because Homs don’t typically situate their colonies in the sky, which is an awful shame. “I’m alright,” Shulk says. “Just a little winded. Do you mind if I, um, wash up a little?”</p>
<p>“Of course not,” Melia answers quickly, before Tyrea can interject about how Shulk looks like he had an extraordinarily bad psychological trip and inhaled two tons of sand. “I’ll come with you. We should refill our canteens.”</p>
<p>Tyrea eyes them warily, possibly envisioning both of them dying a sudden and stupid death as soon as she lets go of the leash. “Don’t do anything unadvisable,” she says, then turns to smash up some Golden Beetroot, presumably for later, when she’ll point a knife in Shulk’s face and threaten him to eat his vegetables for fear of death.</p>
<p>The walk to the spring barely takes two minutes, once again confirming to Shulk, Melia, and the world at large that Tyrea fully expects them to fall over and die at random. They’re also greeted by the Ponspectors, who light up and release the Ether Penguin they were harassing in favour of asking a million questions at a thousand kilometers an hour.</p>
<p>“Why Bionis’ Arm not impervious to rusting and takeover from organic life?” </p>
<p>“Very strange how even Mechonis itself not able to escape natural wear and tear!”</p>
<p>“Would Mechonis become Bionis-like without upkeep and maintenance?”</p>
<p>All very good questions that Shulk will mull over at a more convenient time. “Is everyone alright?” he asks in return.</p>
<p>The Ponspectors humour him. “Ponspectors never better!” Wunwun declares proudly. The group ruffles excitedly, shaking their coloured flags with their rhythmic wiggles. “Field of study very rarely easily accessible, so Ponspectors extremely well versed in all methods of travel! Include freefall, of course!”</p>
<p>How <em>did</em> they get up on the Bionis’ Shoulder? Just another mystery for the books, and what a library it is. “You didn’t run into any Mechon, did you?”</p>
<p>“We did, actually,” Melia says, a little apologetic. “You were unconscious, and you didn’t appear to be responding. We took care of it, though—no harm done.”</p>
<p>“Big ugly thing with ridiculous vision cone,” Fofora elaborates. “Very hard to smack! But Miss Melly cast three arts, and Mechon drop dead!”</p>
<p>That certainly sounds like a familiar story. “Ridiculous vision cone,” Shulk repeats aloud. He pauses. “Um, Melia, I really hate to ask, but why are Superbosses just... hanging around?”</p>
<p>“I wish I had an answer,” Melia says longsufferingly. “But as long as it’s no trouble to us, then I say we can leave the research for later.”</p>
<p>While the Ponspectors drag Melia off to interrogate her on the sand, the water, and practically everything in existence, Shulk washes himself off. He’s rather pleased to find that his torso isn’t a landscape of bruises, which is one miracle he’ll gladly accept.</p>
<p>Dinner that night consists of a lot of dried protein and a lot of fresh fruit, most of which Shulk nibbles away at when he’d rather not eat at all. But then Melia would be disappointed, and Tyrea would be bloodthirsty, and that’s not a combination that usually has peaceful results. </p>
<p>“I just had a very unfortunate revelation,” Melia suddenly declares to the entire group, looking every bit as uncomfortable as she sounds.</p>
<p>Tyrea responds with narrow-eyed suspicion. “Go on,” she says.</p>
<p>“Well. We were going on about how to remove Zanza from Shulk, no? And we decided that we should consult with Vanea?” </p>
<p>“Because this soul doctor of yours already performed one transplant.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Now, I don’t mean to introduce paranoia into our already strange situation, but let us all consider how Zanza was... ejected from Shulk last time.”</p>
<p>Revelations suck most of the time. Shulk should stop being surprised each and every single time something terrible reveals itself. His heart isn’t strong enough for this.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Shulk says distantly, sensing an imminent and complete shutdown. “By concentrated ether blast.”</p>
<p>“Like an ether accelerator,” Tyrea forges on relentlessly, either oblivious to Shulk’s ongoing emotional crisis (unlikely) or entirely indifferent to it (highly likely). “What, is that going to be a problem? Lorithia made one, didn’t she? I don’t hear you calling her a genius.”</p>
<p>“Well, no, but that’s because it’s so much easier to call her a knave and a traitor,” Melia points out.</p>
<p>“Oh, come on. You have suitable words in your vocabulary. Starts with b, ends in itch? Ring any bells?”</p>
<p>“How very rude of you. I reserve the usage of expletives only when a situation is sufficiently dramatic.”</p>
<p>“Like when you need to break your staff over a god’s head, you mean.”</p>
<p>“If it’s god we’re now talking about, <em>I</em> certainly wouldn’t be the only one slinging the expletives. And why would I? It’s much more entertaining to call him a peeled banana and watch him have a conniption.”</p>
<p>Shulk... Shulk was considering having a small breakdown, but now he’s finding himself worryingly invested in this entirely new conversation. “Peeled banana,” he repeats, half hysterical.</p>
<p>“I considered peeled lemon, but it doesn’t carry the same connotation,” Melia explains. “For one, most High Entia don’t peel lemons. I hear the Nopon make an incredible lemon ice, though.”</p>
<p>“One vote in favour of banana from me,” Tyrea agrees severely. “Between a banana and a lemon, the banana’s definitely the more insulting of the two.”</p>
<p>“Banana also good candidate for mass production in appropriate climate,” Faifa says. “Seem good, but come with very real risk of monoculture. One bad pest drive entire crop to extinction!”</p>
<p>“Oh, I like the extinction part. Do you think gods are a race, or is it an appointed position?”</p>
<p>Melia carefully contemplates this. “I feel like that’s more of a personality quiz than a yes-no.”</p>
<p>“Ha! That’s fair.” Tyrea splits into a sly grin, which in conjunction with her casual gutting of Spicy Papayas makes for a rather horrifying scene. “Who gave gods the ability to oversee fate, anyway? That seems incredibly boring. If you told me all of a sudden that I was immortal and doomed to eternal motion blur, I’d explode the world and do it over without the lag.”</p>
<p>“Right? Seeing the future and immortality seem like an odd mix. It’s like—oh! It’s like—you know that ice cream shop that opened up near the Fountain of Hope?”</p>
<p>“Beside Anila’s Deep-Fried Frenzy?”</p>
<p>“Yes, that one! One of Talonyth’s friends owns the establishment.”</p>
<p>“Of course I know that place! They have unlimited toppings for large sizes every weekend. I’ve been there... maybe twice? The line’s usually ridiculously long and I certainly don’t have an hour to waste on ice cream.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I agree. Their ice cream’s quite nice, but it’s nothing I haven’t had before. It’s the unlimited toppings that really gets me.” </p>
<p>“Makes sense. Ever since we ironed out the Mainland-Shoulder Trade Network, people haven’t been able to shut up about the variety and the freshness and whatnot.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s exactly it! Can you guess what happens when you have access to practically every ingredient in the world?” </p>
<p>Tyrea’s hands slow a little, and her brows furrow. “People reveal unto the world their extraordinarily bad taste,” she tries.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Melia confirms, sporting a sly grin of her own now. “Now, did you know there’s a weekly poll for the best customer-made creation?”</p>
<p>Tyrea stops gutting the papayas entirely in favour of staring at Melia like she’s just been slapped across the face with a Piranhax. <em>“No,”</em> she says, in total awe.</p>
<p>“It’s <em>incredible</em>,” Melia tells her, practically vibrating with glee. “I don’t know what they were expecting, but—how does the phrase go again? <em>Every poll’s a goal</em> or something?”</p>
<p>“What was the most recent one?” Tyrea urges delightedly. “Fifteen shots of Death Lychee extract for a bloody, violent sugar high? Five cups of Juicy Blueberry to stain your teeth blue for a month?”</p>
<p>“It’s called the Instant Astral Ejection,” Melia says conspiratorially, lowering her voice as if she’s exchanging contraband and not gossip. “Five cups of Black Kiwi, five cups of Citron Gooseberry, and half a Large Mango.”</p>
<p>They all sit and consider that monstrosity for a brief moment.</p>
<p>Shulk makes a sound of distress when it finally sinks in. “I... correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Large Mango powder used in traditional herbal medicine?”</p>
<p>“Because it taste like poison and have funny tendency to trigger gag reflex,” Dekadeka confirms darkly. </p>
<p>“Black Kiwi used as over-the-counter vitamin supplement,” Fofora adds. Her eyes are wide and concerned, like she can’t believe they’ve survived this long when recreational overdosing is seen as a recreational sport. “Should follow instructions on bottle or ask pharmacist if not sure. Five cups seem very excessive.”</p>
<p>“Sharla got me to eat Citron Gooseberry once,” Shulk reminisces aloud. “I was hungover, I think. She said it would help.”</p>
<p>Tyrea now appears to be hunched over laughing. “Oh my <em>god</em>,” she wheezes. “You actually ate them? How many?”</p>
<p>Well, now Shulk feels the need to defend himself. Clearly nobody else is going to step up and do it for him. “She gave me an entire bowl! And I was hungover! I wasn’t about to... I don’t know, get out of bed and make my own food!”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t have made your own food even if you weren’t hungover,” Melia interjects unhelpfully. </p>
<p>The pitiless humour on Tyrea’s grinning face shades a little closer to unbelieving shock. “You downed an entire bowl when most people can’t even get down <em>one?</em>”</p>
<p>“It’s the sometimes dead thing I mentioned early, don’t worry about it,” Shulk says dismissively. “<em>Anyway.</em> The fact is that Sharla obviously played me like a fool, because I spent an hour with my face in a toilet bowl.”</p>
<p>“This strategy seems very effective,” Melia says. She exchanges a brief look with Tyrea, which is seriously foreboding. “Let’s just... file that one for later.”</p>
<p>Tyrea’s caught on a completely different snag. She pauses for a moment, then asks, “Okay, so do they post the winner outside the shop or what? That’s adjacent to advertising literal cyanide, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Officially, only creations verified by a dietician are allowed to be posted in-store. That certainly doesn’t stop weekly publications, though.”</p>
<p>It’s rather disturbing to watch Tyrea sigh with disappointment. “Unfortunate. I suppose it’s hard to monetize natural selection these days.”</p>
<p>Then both Tyrea and Melia laugh, which is, to put it lightly, extremely concerning, given their shared history with incidents involving natural selection. You know, those funny mystery genes and all. </p>
<p>Obviously Shulk doesn’t say anything. (Laughing about trauma? Nice to meet you, pot, kettle.) </p>
<p>With that terrifying detour finished, Melia carefully guides the conversation back onto its arguably more terrifying original topic. Before that, though: “Would anyone else like to take a kick at Zanza, or shall we move on?”</p>
<p>“We’re going to be beating the literal crap out of him later,” Tyrea points out. </p>
<p>“True,” Melia agrees, with all the ease of someone who has had her life steamrolled over by god and is now prepared to peel his eyelashes off individually. “Onto the topic of the ether accelerator, then. Shulk?”</p>
<p>It would probably be rude to dig a deep hole and hide in it forever, so Shulk swallows down whatever fear he can catch between his teeth and nods. “I really don’t know how or if it’ll work at all, but it’s definitely worth a shot given how effective it was last time.”</p>
<p>“Explain,” Tyrea demands. Right—this specific event isn’t in her litany of traumas. </p>
<p>Melia offers Shulk a generous and sympathetic side-eye, quietly but loudly asking, <em>DO YOU WANT ME TO REWORD</em>, to which Shulk responds with a guilty <em>IF IT’S NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE.</em></p>
<p>So Melia clears her throat. Professionally and practiced, of course, with the full intent of politely demanding everyone’s attention. Shulk wishes he had that skill. Most of the time he just sounds like he’s preparing to hack up a hairball. </p>
<p>“Way back when,” Melia begins, “we worked with a Homs called Dickson. He acted as our informant and guide.”</p>
<p>Tyrea squints suspiciously. “Dickson? A Homs? I’ve worked with him, I think.”</p>
<p>Of course. Nothing should surprise Shulk at this point. He settles for sighing into his hands instead of walking directly into the ocean and screaming, which is honestly all he can say about this reveal.</p>
<p>“He had his fingers in Alcamoth’s courts?” Melia demands, outraged enough for all of them. “Who would have—<em>Alvis</em>. Oh, I am going to <em>shred</em> him.”</p>
<p>“To be fair, it was Yumea doing most of the scheming,” Tyrea says placatingly, apparently fine with ignoring the threats of physical violence. “The court was seriously a disaster back in the day. Alvis and Lorithia, plus Yumea and the Bionite Order? Does that sound like a disaster to you, or does it sound like a disaster?”</p>
<p>Melia huffs. “Good riddance, I say. It was very kind of all the guilty parties to walk themselves out of our problems this time.”</p>
<p>Shulk isn’t sure he would consider beating someone into blood pudding walking oneself out, but what does he know? “I don’t think Alvis is intentionally trying to mess with us,” he puts in, feeling a sudden surge of bravery, what with this conversation having been pulled in every possible direction at once. “His very existence is neutral.”</p>
<p>The look on Melia’s face is one that normal people would describe as mildly irritated. It is suitably scathing. “I can forgive someone for being what they are,” she says, smooth like the barrel of a .50 cal mounted ether gun, “but the fact of the matter is that he was complicit in his silence, and his face is very punchable.”</p>
<p>“Debatable,” Shulk mutters to himself. “About the punchable part, I mean.”</p>
<p>“The fact of the matter also is that he’s not here, he’s probably nowhere, so back to this Dickson person.” Leave it to Tyrea to put things in perspective. “Obviously he’s morally bankrupt if he was working with us, boo-hoo, big surprise. Continue.”</p>
<p>“Well, he accompanied us when we went to confront Egil for what seemed to be the climactic be-all, end-all,” Melia says. “We were about to sort things out. It would’ve been the happy ending of all our brightest dreams.”</p>
<p>“Ah. This is the <em>almost</em> thing we were talking about, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and I’m enjoying this greatest hits compilation as much as you are, don’t worry.” Melia closes her eyes and massages the bridge of her nose. So much for sympathy. “Dickson shot Shulk in the chest with a high-calibre ether rifle and Zanza popped out the other side.”</p>
<p>It is perhaps not Tyrea’s most tasteful move to eye Shulk like his head’s about to split open and give birth to a god. “Nice,” she says approvingly, like Shulk deserves a fruit basket or a bouquet for his labours.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Shulk says despairingly.</p>
<p>“So why are you narrating it like it’s some kind of tragedy?” Tyrea asks, looking around and wondering why she’s the only person having a good time. “I assume you killed him. All’s well that ends well.”</p>
<p>Melia leaves a deliberate, awkward silence. “Well, there’s the part where Dickson was Shulk’s adoptive father.”</p>
<p>The look that Tyrea gives Shulk is one he both despises and appreciates deeply: grim acceptance intermingling with uncomfortable familiarity. “Huh,” she says. “That’s rough.”</p>
<p>Shulk nods sadly. Tyrea makes an absent motion for Melia to keep talking.</p>
<p>“The point,” Melia says, “is that we ought to consider the very real possibility that a concentrated ether blast might displace divine tumours. It’s just speculation, of course, but I don’t see any reason not to try.”</p>
<p>“I could just shoot him,” Tyrea suggests, heaving up her knife-gun-club things. </p>
<p>There goes their emotional bonding moment. “I only consent to being shot at by medical professionals,” Shulk says indignantly. </p>
<p>“You prefer some quack’s aim over mine?”</p>
<p>“Any doctor who shoots me will at least have a cartridge of sedative, or stimulant, or... or miscellaneous healing energy. If you shot me, I’d be <em>dead</em>. I object to being shot dead!”</p>
<p>“What, like you have experience being shot dead?”</p>
<p><em>“Yes!”</em></p>
<p>“Technically, he wasn’t dead,” Melia points out. “Dickson shot him, and while Zanza popped out into reality like an unwelcome mole, Shulk was propelled into—what are we calling it? Dreamscape? Memoryscape?”</p>
<p>“I had an existential crisis while also being functionally dead,” Shulk says sourly. “And Alvis was there as well, giving me a pep talk. I personally theorize that I suffered a complete system failure typically classified as a massive depressive spiral. Can we move on to the ether accelerator?”</p>
<p>Once again, Tyrea’s train of thought has stopped in a completely different station. “You were fatally shot and you didn’t die?” she repeats, astounded and a little impressed. “Wow. You need to show me that one sometime.”</p>
<p>“If our luck is any more like this than it already is, then you might just get front-row seats.”</p>
<p>“I think I’ll auction my ticket off to someone with adequate sadism to enjoy that show, thank you,” Melia says without so much as blinking. “Shulk getting shot aside, aren’t we going to have trouble accessing an ether accelerator? Now that we’re essentially vigilantes, I mean.”</p>
<p>“We did tell the Emperor about Lorithia’s sick funhouse,” Tyrea says, then scowls. “Does our resident engineer have any suggestions?”</p>
<p>“Building one from scratch would take an exorbitant amount of funding, materials, testing, and time,” Shulk says apologetically. </p>
<p>Melia rubs at her arms in deep discomfort. “All those long nights spent reviewing budgets and rephrasing scientific jargon into economically feasible proposals is not an experience I’m particularly eager to repeat so soon.”</p>
<p>“And all that extortion really didn’t agree with my skin,” Tyrea mutters, equally as despondent. She and Melia nod viciously, as if they haven’t just admitted to sourcing funds through threats of death and violence. </p>
<p>Shulk chooses not to point this out. He’d rather not be disappeared, and he really does appreciate Melia’s wholehearted support. This kind of thinking illustrates severe moral degradation, but Shulk figures he could probably handle a little more cynicism in his life. It’ll give him a warm glow.</p>
<p>“Then let’s assume the Mechonis is the only other source of ether accelerators,” Shulk says instead. “We’re conveniently halfway there already, so we might as well have a look.”</p>
<p>“God knows they’re probably using them to play marbles,” Tyrea says, finishing up the last of the papayas. “From what I hear, Organic Research used to scream at the Machina for days. <em>Why didn’t you tell us you had protein sequence editors,</em> and the responding <em>What do you mean you don’t have protein sequence editors</em>. Really just communication failure on all sides.”</p>
<p>Shulk shudders, resisting the urge to rub at his own arms. None of it was with ill intent, and he’s almost certain those threats were only comically and not legitimately graphic, but those mandatory team building trips afterward? The ones involving live rounds and several trips to both the emergency ward and the fire department? Nightmares. Nightmares for weeks. “Don’t remind me. We have to call in a doctor every time we hold budget meetings, let alone play dodgeball. I think the medical ward has a betting pool on who racks up the highest count of emergency visits.”</p>
<p>“It’s real, alright,” Tyrea says, smiling like a knife. “And did you know, dearest Shulk, that it’s not just visits to the emergency ward?”</p>
<p>That’s right—Tyrea’s taken over a good deal of managerial duties that were once handled by people a lot more incompetent than her. Those assorted duties include making sure the labs aren’t going to suddenly go up in a massive fireball when a mug gets thrown the wrong way. No, if the labs are going up in a massive fireball, it’ll only be with Tyrea’s stamp of approval and Melia’s go-ahead.</p>
<p>It takes Shulk perhaps a second too long to process the implications. “Oh,” he says vacantly. “Oh no.”</p>
<p>Melia offers Shulk her most disappointed look. Sometimes Shulk wonders why his friends can’t care about his wellbeing a little less. “If Fiora can’t convince you to take care of yourself, perhaps the burning shame will,” she says, then pats him gamely on the shoulder.</p>
<p>Tyrea is equally as unsympathetic, but at least she has the decency to be upfront about it. “Let’s see,” she begins gleefully. “Vitamin deficiency. Bruises of poorly-thought-out-experiment origin. Bungee-jumping blood pressure. An absurd number of broken fingers and toes. The iconic, Shulk-trademarked ‘I came in for a physical but passed out in the waiting room and when I woke up I was on a hospital bed and hooked up to an IV because my eyebags look like war trenches and I’m in a bet with god, life, and my cardiovascular system to see which one kills me first’.”</p>
<p>“Good on them for separating god and life under two different terms,” Shulk mutters into his knees. </p>
<p>“That name isn’t catchy at all,” Melia tells Tyrea seriously, as if <em>that’s</em> the problem here. “I’m told the catch-all phrase is Code OIHA, short for Oh, It’s <em>Him</em> Again.’”</p>
<p>Wunwun looks at Shulk with deep disapproval. Wonderful. He’s gone and earned the ire of the Ponspectors. Is it too much to ask for a large rock over the head right now? </p>
<p>“Mister Shulk sound like walking disaster,” Wunwun says, as if Shulk hasn’t known that for sixteen years now. Then, in a surprising turn of events, Wunwun determinately spreads his tiny arms. “Doctor’s diagnosis not available now, so offer stopgap. Hug?”</p>
<p>Everyone immediately turns their scary laser-eyes to Shulk. Melia’s unspoken <em>IF YOU RESIST THE HUG I WILL GARROTE YOU</em> is rather convincing.</p>
<p>Shulk squeezes into the hug. The rest of the Ponspectors move in to surround him, and would you look at that? Physical contact is nice sometimes, especially under these very stressful circumstances. </p>
<p>Tyrea seems to decide that this scene is pitiful enough, because she rolls her eyes and then starts rolling out the tarps. “Alright, that’s enough for one night. We set off for the Hidden Machina Village tomorrow. Then we can finally get some professional advice and a medic with a gun.”</p>
<p>Those two happy thoughts lull Shulk more or less to sleep. The Ponspectors do the rest, bless their fuzzy hearts.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It really is a blessing that Melia’s had so much experience working with Machina, because otherwise this conversation would be all sorts of incomprehensible. </p>
<p>Thank goodness Shulk finally has someone who can actively engage in engineering-related conversation without relying on polite smiles or all-out confusion. He came very close to crying last night; perhaps the joy from finding a science soulmate will finally push him over the edge.</p>
<p>“What is he saying,” Tyrea hiss-whispers to Melia, gaze furiously bouncing between Shulk’s vibrating excitement and Rizaka’s literal humming excitement.</p>
<p>“He’s talking about his pet project,” Melia hiss-whispers back.</p>
<p>“Which is?”</p>
<p>“Prosthesis using a Machina skeletal frame and organic muscle, tissue, et cetera.”</p>
<p>“We can do that?”</p>
<p>“Possibly. The project never got off the ground since we’d need to construct a surgical chamber designed specifically with the intent of replicating and regrowing cells.”</p>
<p>“Let me guess: it’s ridiculously expensive and swallows up energy like a pubescent teenager at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”</p>
<p>“And we don’t have too many cases of people losing their limbs and surviving, either.”</p>
<p>“So... do you need me to find some?”</p>
<p>“By ‘find some’, you mean ‘make some’. <em>No</em>, Tyrea, I don’t need you to go around hacking off people’s limbs for the sake of science.”</p>
<p>“Fine, whatever. We both know Shulk would be the first to hack off his own limbs for the sake of science, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Apologies for the wait,” says Linada, making her way past the sliding doors of the Junks and onto the deck. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, not at all,” Shulk says eagerly. “I was just talking with Rizaka here about a really interesting collaboration that I think—you know what? I’ll explain later. We came to ask if you happened to have an ether accelerator that we could possibly use.”</p>
<p>Linada raises a curious brow and politely refrains from asking why Bionis technology is so primitive, and if they’d like a magnifying glass to set ants on fire along with their rock. “Is there a material you’d like to synthesize?”</p>
<p>Shulk opens his mouth with an expression that hints his next words are going to be <em>no, but I have an evil god inside me and I want to take him out</em>, so Melia decides it’s time to step in.</p>
<p>“First, we’d like to speak with your chief, if at all possible,” Melia says in her best negotiating voice. “There are a few details we’d like to discuss that I believe he might have an invested interest in.”</p>
<p>Linada graciously doesn’t pry any further and instead asks them to wait while she acts as messenger. </p>
<p>During this downtime, Tyrea furiously coaches them through what they should and shouldn’t say. Obviously this impromptu lesson excludes the Ponspectors, who have decided to split their chaos evenly and wander around the village interrogating anyone unfortunate enough to breathe their way. </p>
<p>“Here’s what we won’t say,” Tyrea says, making direct eye contact with Shulk. “We won’t come out with, ‘hello, there’s an evil god in me who wants to wipe out all life, you might be familiar with him. Anyway, we want to kill him via a firm slap to the face with an ether accelerator.’”</p>
<p>“Watch Miqol ask us to kill Egil right back,” Shulk mumbles petulantly.</p>
<p>Tyrea is not impressed by Shulk’s quips. “What we <em>will</em> say,” she forges on, now with Shulk’s ear in one hand, “is something more along the lines on, hello, we’re a team of travelling researchers, and we came across a particularly interesting find during our travels—” vague gesture to the Monado “—and our friend here—” even vaguer gesture to Shulk “—happened to touch the thing, and now we think he might have ghosts in him.”</p>
<p>“That’s <em>better?</em>” Shulk demands, a little pained.</p>
<p>“I think we can namedrop,” Melia says. “Both Tyrea and I are High Entia, and some of the prophecies and relics around Bionis really are quite obvious at hinting toward our... past troubles. So it seems fitting that we shouldn’t be fond of Zanza.”</p>
<p>“There’s also the case of Shulk’s eyesore of a knife,” Tyrea continues, squinting at said eyesore and frowning. She makes a sound of deep disapproval. “Well, we just won’t bring it up unless someone asks.”</p>
<p>“And what if someone does bring it up?” Shulk asks nervously. </p>
<p>“Then it was a souvenir from the time you killed god and you think this entire trip is way too much work just to return the damn thing,” Tyrea says pitilessly. The sliding doors open to reveal a beckoning Linada, who’s already offering the True Monado some curious looks of her own. “See? Easy practice. Now let’s go and try not to mess this up too badly.”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>They do not, in fact, mess it up too badly.</p>
<p>Tyrea’s almost impressed. Then she reflects on why she’s impressed, and immediately becomes pissed. </p>
<p>For an introverted engineer who genuinely enjoys work but also uses it as a coping mechanism (objectively not a great combination, hello, Citron Gooseberry), Shulk holds his own surprisingly well. Miqol loves everything about the boy: his technical prowess, his undisguised geekiness, his general precious fluffiness, etc. </p>
<p>No wonder Melia brings Shulk along to all her negotiations with Machina. One look at Shulk and everyone folds over in half. </p>
<p>All Melia really needs to do is smooth out some very real details. Yes sir, we did indeed fall off the Mechonis’ Sword, it’s just so unfortunate that some very powerful Mechon happened to survive that explosion from a little while ago—remember that enormous, fiery ball of destruction that we had no part in whatsoever? What a surprising event that was. Anyway, our friend here probably has some ghosts in him, and we think we can DIY an exorcism if only we had access to an ether accelerator. </p>
<p>Obviously Melia pretties it up a little for their gracious hosts, but the gist is more or less the same: help us or the world might explode. Pretty please? Or else. </p>
<p>It’s not exactly prime time entertainment, but at least Tyrea doesn’t have to charge in wildly with a fire extinguisher. No, all she needs to do is hang around and look scary.</p>
<p>Miqol contemplates their info-bomb a bit. Clearly he’s not fond of the idea of Zanza crawling out of Shulk’s nostrils and hitting the hard reset on everything, because he agrees that their priorities should probably be to destroy the evil god.</p>
<p>Then he goes on to suggest that maybe they should have a little chat with Egil, the self-proclaimed leader of Mechonis. You know, just in case that funny lad has anything to say. About Bionis. And Zanza. And... that interesting laser saber.</p>
<p>Shulk immediately clamps up, though it’s difficult to discern whether it was Egil, Bionis, Zanza, or laser saber that did it. Melia puts a hand on his wrist and elegantly wraps up the conversation with a curt, “Thank you. Now, about that ether accelerator...?”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Miqol says, booming and jovial like a giant mechanical Nopon. “We don’t have any at our immediate disposal, unfortunately. They’re all on Mechonis, and the specific one you’ll need depends on how powerful of a concentration will do the trick.”</p>
<p>Joy. Tyrea’s always wanted to hike up a giant metal robot with hilariously bad interior design. </p>
<p>“We’ve never used an ether accelerator on a Homs,” Tyrea says, because in her mind she’s envisioning Shulk happily throwing himself into a giant death beam and immediately incinerating into happy ashes. “Is there someone here who’d be able to help us determine any potential side effects?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure Linada would be more than willing to help,” says Miqol. </p>
<p>And she is! Sort of. She’s about as happy to help them with Shulk’s case of the ghosties as she is to be tossing buckets of gasoline on a flaming house, which is a lot more that can be said for most.</p>
<p>Linada looks at them like they’ve all got their heads on backwards when she learns what they’re trying to do, but hey. Doctors have to deal with the dumbest people in the world after they’ve made the worst decisions of their lives. She might just survive in this crazy world.</p>
<p>“Ether, when concentrated, is extremely volatile,” Linada explains, slow and easy, as soon as she realizes they’re all idiots. “As High Entia, I assume you’re familiar with this concept.”</p>
<p>“A bit,” Tyrea says flatly.</p>
<p>“Then you probably also know that introducing a highly concentrated dose of ether into any organic being comes with a high risk of immediate mutation and cell destruction, both of which are incredibly difficult to reverse.”</p>
<p>So... that’s bad, obviously. Shulk doesn’t seem to get the hint. “How much exposure would be lethal?”</p>
<p>“Any, I’d wager,” Linada says. “But given your unique circumstances, I understand why you’re so eager to try your hand with an ether accelerator. The presence within you is essentially a massive, dormant well of ether, which means to dislodge it, you would need a force equally as powerful.” Then Linada puts on a cautious frown. It’s the same expression Dunban wears whenever Shulk falls asleep face-first into his soup, or when Melia backflips out a window to escape unsolicited advice: like idiocy is a plague and they’re all permanent carriers. “Do you have any plans on what to do after the ether is dislodged?”</p>
<p>Melia presses her lips together into a straight, unhappy grimace. “If the ether blast is powerful enough, we should be able to injure Zanza to a significant enough degree to force him to flee back into his Monado for safety,” she says, although she sure doesn’t sound pleased about it. “Then we can concentrate the full force of the accelerator on the Monado and hopefully be rid of him.”</p>
<p>All this blasting doesn’t sit well with Linada. That’s fair. If a group of idiots walked into the emergency bay demanding to have their limbs amputated with chainsaws, Tyrea might just be a little upset as well. </p>
<p>So the lectures continue, and Melia’s growing increasingly unsure about propping Shulk up in front of a giant laser and telling him to do his best. Tyrea isn’t as concerned, given that she’s used to taking over-the-top, ridiculously drastic measures to solve very minor problems. Maybe she doesn’t do as much incognito stabbing as she did back in the day, but sometimes the knives need to come out, and it would be pretty awkward if a senator walked in on Melia furiously wiping down blood splatter with bleach. </p>
<p>That’s a job for their very-well-paid janitors. Tyrea used to handle illicit housecleaning herself until she discovered <em>that</em> particular niche of the job market. She’s more than happy to let them sweep the entrails under the rug and into the ocean; standing intimidatingly behind Melia is far easier, pays better, and makes their benevolent ruler seem a thousand times more amiable when placed next to the embodiment of <em>well, it could be worse.</em></p>
<p>Oh, and Shulk’s being weird about everything now, but that’s nothing new.</p>
<p>“You can turn up the concentration as high as you like,” he says, surveying the room and failing to understand why Linada and Melia look like they’re about to throttle him. “There’s no risk, I promise. I can handle it.”</p>
<p>It’s adorable how Shulk thinks he can casually throw in a little <em>I can handle it</em> without having everyone who knows him even a little stare at him in distress. Because no. That is not the way of the universe.</p>
<p>Precious darling Shulk, lead engineer of Civil Engineering: unless you work in the labs, he’s a cryptid. If you do work in the labs, he’s a god. Except you can’t say that to his face, or else he’ll look at you long and hard until you’re certain he forgot to boot up his soul this morning, and then he’ll maybe phase into a panic attack depending on his caffeine intake. Precious darling Shulk, the jewel of Bionis: his mind’s a bag full of terrifyingly intelligent cats, his hands will build you a civilization out of scraps, and his pain tolerance is the stuff of fiercely debated psychological dissertations.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we should think things through a little more,” Melia suggests politely, in her <em>you’re insane but I care about you deeply</em> voice. </p>
<p>“Indeed we should,” Linada adds on firmly. She crosses her arms in a way that implies Tyrea might have to wait in line if she wants to advise Shulk to be less alarming to innocent bystanders. “Ether accelerators are only to be operated by those with proper authorization, let alone sufficient knowledge about the risks of ether radiation.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean...” Shulk’s distressed now, all fidgety and uncertain, meaning he really doesn’t want to say something but is quickly concluding that he might have to. “I’m a special case. Ordinarily, all those precautions would apply. Just... not to me.”</p>
<p>“What does this ‘special case’ entail, exactly?”</p>
<p>“I, um. I have experience handling large amounts of ether.”</p>
<p>“So do Melia and Tyrea.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know, but... it’s different?”</p>
<p>Shulk would sound a million times more convincing if he didn’t end every sentence on an upward-inflecting drawl. “Alright,” Tyrea says, cleaving the conversation in two. “Just let her have it, Shulk.”</p>
<p>Shulk takes a deep breath, then says, “I was a god for a little while and the weapon I’m using now is that of a god’s, so I think I’m good on the ether front.”</p>
<p>Linada stares at him for a very long time with a very blank expression. “A god,” she eventually repeats.</p>
<p>“Or something of the sort,” Shulk provides, still fidgeting. </p>
<p>Whatever conclusion Linada arrives at, it’s one that she determinedly files as Not Her Problem, because she just closes her eyes and says, “Alright.”</p>
<p>“Alright?” Shulk asks nervously.</p>
<p>“Perhaps you won’t die, but you’ll certainly suffer serious injuries,” Linada powers on, probably eager to leave all this divine nonsense behind them. “If you want to hurt Zanza, you’ll also have to hurt yourself.”</p>
<p>Shulk’s shoulders sag in relief. “Oh no, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m pretty much a pro at getting myself hurt. It’s much better than getting hurt on someone else’s terms!” Then he laughs lightly like he just told a good joke, and Melia has the audacity to nod because she doesn’t have the right to dispute that (POT, KETTLE). Linada carries a long-suffering gaze across the entire room with the silent query of how they’re so messed up and why she has to deal with them.</p>
<p>Tyrea offers a helpless shrug. “Hey, at least we’re not blowing anything up.”</p>
<p>“What wonderful standards you have,” Linada tells her flatly, then declares that they need to rest lest they do something incredibly stupid, like blow up the Junks.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It was very kind of Linada to find them a couple of empty beds. Shulk appreciates her concern deeply and thinks if he wasn’t such a flaming disaster, he might actually have listened to her advice and taken a nap.</p>
<p>“Help me find more Rainbow Slugs,” Tyrea demands from both Shulk and Melia once they’ve left the immediate vicinity of the Junks.</p>
<p>Shulk thinks that Tyrea might be enabling him. Every new day is a miracle. “Sure,” he says. </p>
<p>It turns out that the Ponspectors are already loitering by the village entrance, seemingly under the collective impression that their group can’t stay in one place for more than a couple of hours. Shulk can’t even dispute that claim considering it’s entirely correct. </p>
<p>He misses his lab sometimes. Which happens to be all the time. Oh, to return to the days of 48-Hour Energy and flying mugs...</p>
<p>Tyrea appears to be content staring at rocks with poised grabby-hands until the moon comes out, and the Ponspectors are happy to accompany her if it means they get to studiously roll foreign minerals around in their hands and analyze one square meter of soil until they can recite the composition down to three decimal points in their sleep. </p>
<p>Shulk mentally composes a rough sketch of the journey ahead, decides he <em>really</em> doesn’t like what he sees, and figures he might as well make himself useful as well.</p>
<p>Melia peeks over his shoulder curiously, apparently deciding that Shulk needs supervision more than Tyrea. It’s less of a personal opinion and more of an undeniable fact: the sky is blue, water is wet, Shulk cannot be left to his own devices even if the world is literally in the process of ending.</p>
<p>He likes the company, so no harm done. </p>
<p>“I’m making hotwiring kits,” Shulk explains to Melia, ripping wires out of Mechon hulls by the handful. “As much as I would love to study the Mechonis’ internal design, I think my disdain for elevators and their unreasonably distant switches takes priority.”</p>
<p>“I’m inclined to agree,” Melia says. Behind her eyes march the armies of deep irritation, and those armies are marching in confused circles trying to keep track of what floor they’re on, which switches they’ve activated, what direction they’re headed, how many corkscrew stairs they’ve raised, how many Named Monsters need scrapping, and a whole slew of details that need micromanaging, because chores tend to get a little stressful when they’re attached to a ticking time bomb.</p>
<p>Anyway. Where was he?</p>
<p>Right. “I figure that the less time we need to spend in the Mechonis, the better. Egil probably won’t appreciate it if we loiter too long, and it’s probably best if we work things out with him after we take care of the god that, um. Devastated his people and destroyed his home.”</p>
<p>“That’s probably wise,” Melia says. She blinks when Shulk sticks his arm into a Mechon up to his shoulder. “Is that safe to do?”</p>
<p><em>Probably not</em> really wouldn’t help matters here. “I’m used to it,” Shulk tries instead, which going by Melia’s raised brow isn’t right either, but he figures it at least isn’t worse. </p>
<p>A few minutes later he decides that his chronic inability to tell people no is really going to get someone killed one day, because Melia holds a short standoff with an inactive Mechon for a minute and a half before deciding, well, if <em>Shulk</em> of all people is willing to give a casual go-ahead, what’s to stop her from doing the same?</p>
<p>The noise that escapes from Shulk as he watches Melia roundhouse a particularly stubborn sheet of metal off a M85 is one he isn’t particularly proud of. </p>
<p>So now both Shulk and Melia are running around the Fallen Arm, casually defacing dead Mechon by stealing their innards and using them to break the Mechonis’ mainframe, which is a sentence Shulk never thought he would end up thinking. Melia seems unnervingly comfortable tearing metal apart with her bare hands, which is just... wow! So many questions!</p>
<p>(A while ago, back when the situation on the Shoulder was still rough around the edges, Shulk walked into the kitchen at two in the morning and saw Melia frying a fish. In her bare hands. In her on-fire, grill-worthy hands. He refilled his coffee and didn’t ask while Melia determinedly pretended not to see him. So. That’s a thing that can happen, apparently.)</p>
<p>In the back of his mind, Shulk wants to ask at what point scientific curiosity becomes grave robbery. He figures that question can sit next to all the other questions that he’s not brave enough to ask, right between <em>do my friends really love me or am I just convenient</em> and <em>do Nopon have the capacity to become war profiteers.</em></p>
<p>Soon enough Shulk has one kit for each member of their party, Ponspectors included, even though that decision probably won’t end well in the long run. Ponspectors with the ability to hotwire. That makes for some kind of nightmare.</p>
<p>Tyrea and the Ponspectors meet them back at the village once their Rainbow Slug needs are fulfilled. “I’m going to bribe everyone so hard,” Tyrea says, deeply satisfied. </p>
<p>The most Shulk can do without risking offense is smile nervously, whereas Melia goes for her usual raised-brow skepticism.</p>
<p>All of Shulk’s efforts are in vain, because Tyrea scowls at the both of them like she wonders why she can’t have more unhinged, mollusc-loving friends. “Oh, shut up. Are we eating screws and bolts for dinner or do these people know to forage?”</p>
<p>Natalia practically swoops in and saves the day. Not only is her cooking not tailored for survival (Tyrea), some sort of fruit salad (Melia), or stroke-inflicting in terms of taste (Shulk), but she’s taken by everything about Melia and Tyrea. Shulk finds himself nodding appreciatively along when Natalia compliments Tyrea’s beautiful eyes, or Melia’s adorable wings, and he firmly holds both their awkward, embarrassed glares when Shulk points out that <em>yes</em>, they are, in fact, incredibly hardworking and independent women who could take over the world if they felt like it. He refuses to back down because he knows this for fact, unlike every other immutable thing to change overnight.</p>
<p>By the time all the fish are gone, the Ponspectors are busy snoring away in a giant pile. Tyrea’s apparently gone and found the meaning of life in her shoes, because she refuses to look elsewhere, and Melia won’t stop fiddling with her wings.</p>
<p>“You must be busy,” Natalia says to Shulk all of a sudden. He tries not to flinch too obviously. “With your research and all, I mean. Are you from Colony 6?”</p>
<p>“Colony 9, actually,” Shulk says, then immediately feels like biting off his own tongue and eating it.</p>
<p>“Oh, wow! That’s even further! Hey, if you ever need a place to stop and rest away from home, feel free to visit, alright? Everyone who’s anyone is welcome here.”</p>
<p>Shulk takes a long, silent moment to process that. It gives an unwelcome click when it all sinks in: he’s a young adult who willingly left home and has mentioned absolutely nothing about his friends, family, or place in life outside of his travelling companions. Presumably he has nothing and is no one, which hits way too close to home for Shulk not to frantically find something over Natalia’s shoulder to stare at and bite his nails into his palms.</p>
<p>Natalia kindly pretends not to notice and gives Shulk an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Keep at it. We all get there someday. Now, I’ve got two old bunk beds here, and I have to admit they’re not pretty, but it’s a horizontal surface that ends in <em>bed</em>, so it’ll have to do. Anyone want to call dibs?”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It is perhaps not the most welcome news to hear that the only suitable ether accelerator for the job is in Agniratha.</p>
<p>Melia, for one, is not pleased. While she’s glad to at least be travelling somewhere she’s at least a little familiar with, the prospect of hiking up through Mechonis Field and then the Central Factory after that, <em>with none of the switches already active</em>, makes for an instant headache.</p>
<p>Shulk simply looks nervous. If Melia were to guess, she’d say it’s because the last time he stepped foot in the city, it exploded. If Melia were to take that hypothesis a little further, she’d also add in the part where Zanza likely conditioned Shulk to despise everything related to the Mechonis, and now that there’s a Zanza-shaped imprint on Shulk’s brain, the poor boy doesn’t know what kind of emotion is appropriate for the situation.</p>
<p>Tyrea just looks annoyed. At least one of them has some semblance of normalcy.</p>
<p>“You look awfully calm for a group of beings from Bionis being told to climb up all the way to the Mechonis capital,” Linada notes.</p>
<p>Ah. That’s right. They aren’t supposed to know that the capital is a very depressing ghost city whose image doesn’t overlap with any of their other experiences at all. </p>
<p>Melia’s about to piece together a grand story about how their knowledge is really just that vast when Wunwun confusedly says, “Why friends need to be worried? Agniratha entirely empty now because of ancient battle. No hostiles except Mechon and scary Mister Egil.”</p>
<p>The look Linada gives the Ponspectors is a familiar one: wary suspicion weaved indiscriminately with careful fear. “I see,” she says evenly. “Then if you’re prepared, I wish you the best of luck.”</p>
<p>Linada waits respectfully until they’re out of distance of the entrance, then presumably flees back to the Junks where she can share her Ponspector-related conspiracy theories with her peers.</p>
<p>The trip to the Rotating Bulkhead is a mostly silent one, punctuated by the usual Ponspector <em>oohs</em> and <em>ahhs</em>. For once, Tyrea seems to be enjoying the spectacle before her: the entirety of Mechonis, neither readying up to eliminate with extreme prejudice nor sinking slowly into the ocean as a mountain of headless, godless debris.</p>
<p>Shulk stares up with a blank expression. Melia isn’t sure what to make of it considering the many million parts that make up the greater whole of Shulk’s thoughts, but she’s certainly not about to let him dive into that particular ball pit without supervision. </p>
<p>“I wonder how the Mechonis will react to divine landscaping,” Melia says, keeping her voice carefully casual. “For all we know, our worlds will be randomly fragmented and tossed around. I hope Agniratha remains intact this time.”</p>
<p>“That’s... a good question, actually.” Shulk’s eyebrows meet in deep contemplation. And—oops, there goes the hand on the chin as well. The conversation was nice while it lasted. “The Shoulder certainly didn’t react the way we anticipated, not to mention the general spatial instability caused by the destruction and recreation of the world, but of course we got lucky since we actually had a place to return to whereas the Mechonis simply sank into the ocean, but then that begs the question of whether Meyneth’s existence will either stabilize or destabilize the world; two truths cannot coexist, whereas a greater truth must exist, and...”</p>
<p>By the time Shulk’s muttering is both inaudible and incomprehensible, Tyrea has taken a club to her good mood and is now sporting a comfortable scowl. “Your solution is ‘think happy thoughts’?”</p>
<p>“Until we remove a major source of the unhappy thoughts from Shulk’s head, yes. So many happy thoughts. So many incredibly, unbelievably happy thoughts.”</p>
<p>Tyrea sucks it a piercing breath. “God,” she says disdainfully. “We are so messed up.”</p>
<p>“Hear, hear.”</p></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>while politics are intriguing to write, i unfortunately lack the brain capacity to figure anything out. therefore i will take a torch to it all. just burn it all down and figure out something while everything's on fire. everyone is so done with everything all the time. i feel this is representative for a lot of things i write. also, if you're wondering where the ether accelerator thing came from, look no further than xenoblade chronicles 2 and some plot points that i'm borrowing and hacking into a shape of my liking. so now we have 1) indiscriminate bombing, 2) arson, and 3) doom lasers. life is good.</p>
<p>feel free to talk to me at my <a href="https://twitter.com/novalotypo">twitter</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. a particularly shiny mess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div><p>Tyrea <em>hates</em> it here.</p>
<p>Like, okay: she’s never been inside the Mechonis, so she doesn’t have to play hopscotch over emotional tripwires every damn second. She’s not saying that Melia and Shulk should be having a worse time here—god knows they’re already had enough—but what she is saying is that she hates that everything smells like metal, she hates that everything has a weird, engine-fluid sheen to it, and she hates that she has to rely on Shulk’s sheepishly delivered Monado Enchant to be able to punch something to death.</p>
<p>Shulk seems awfully sorry about the whole debacle too. Melia just tells Tyrea to shoot things instead. Tyrea wonders why everyone around her is so ungrateful.</p>
<p>And why isn’t Melia setting her hands on fire and tearing through Mechon that way, huh? Tyrea knows from first-hand sparring experience that the horrid girl can turn herself into a portable barbeque, let alone turn up the temperature and punch through metal. She taught herself to shoot lightning out of her fingers and wind-rocket her way up to her bedroom window, for god’s sake. It’s the only reason why Dunban hasn’t permanently stationed firefighters beside Melia’s room: Melia would stick the landing and then bolt everyone by reflex, which out of context is an amusing story, but in reality generates a whole stack of unnecessary paperwork that <em>Tyrea has to handle.</em></p>
<p>Oh, and Tyrea hates it here, just in case anyone isn’t aware yet. </p>
<p>There isn’t a whole lot to mention about the trip other than a few curious detours, like the one part where Shulk insists they freefall several stories down into a fuel tank to beat up some Mechon, or that other part where they try to patiently coerce some stray Machina back to the Fallen Arm until Tyrea pulls out the knives and threatens everyone with unscheduled disassembly. The Machina haul ass accordingly. </p>
<p>Also, that long walk between the bulkheads? No. Not fun. Who put up random slabs of metal, anyway? What functional purpose do they serve?</p>
<p>Melia’s feeling smart enough to throw in a quick, “They could be used for blocking projectiles.”</p>
<p>“From what?” Tyrea demands. “Get an ether shield or just dodge the shots. <em>What?</em>” she repeats, when Melia’s expression twists into her disapproving <em>not everyone was raised in a murder circus, Tyrea</em> look.</p>
<p>Metal smell and oily sheen aside, Mechonis Field isn’t too horrible. For one, it doesn’t have the pulsating heart of a giant organic titan sagging off the ceiling. There’s also Shulk’s evil hotwiring kits to consider, which Tyrea seriously needs to convince him to squeeze down into a more portable size (and then slide them under the table).</p>
<p>Hilariously enough, even the Ponspectors hate it here. Yes, they’re Nopon, and trekking around in a giant mechanical behemoth is their equivalent of sloshing around in knee-high toxic waste, but they’re also fund-crazed researchers. If the craziest of them all say <em>nay</em>, then Tyrea’s inclined to echo the sentiment.</p>
<p>And so the sentiment is echoed. Central Factory surely has some nice sightseeing to offer, what with the general ominous vibe and the assorted sounds of a Mechon army on lunch break. It really is a shame that Shulk can stick his fingers into any piece of equipment and tickle it into submission, and it especially sucks that all they need to do is waddle forward in a straight line, sweet-talk a lift until it caves, ride up, etc, etc. </p>
<p>They do take a short detour to rip apart some Majestic Mordred. Big guy, real beast of a Mechon, likes wearing ether cannons as hats. Keels over and shrivels when faced with a Monado Armour that never expires. Not that it’s a character flaw or anything—running up against Shulk and his trigger-happy Armour is the equivalent of punching a wall and having it punch back. </p>
<p>Tyrea feels the urge to apologize, given how weirdly vindictive Shulk and Melia are toward the poor thing. It’s like watching someone punt a puppy out a window. Rough.</p>
<p>Yeah. So that happens. Tyrea walks a little closer to the Ponspectors until they make it to the transporter, since both Shulk and Melia are probably up to the ears in adrenaline, and as utterly badass as Tyrea is, she doesn’t want to accidentally restructure someone’s face if they twitch at her the wrong way. </p>
<p>Turns out it doesn’t even matter, because Shulk immediately shuts down when they make it up to the Agniratha Transporter. </p>
<p>He’s just... staring. Walking forward, face dead, probably incapable of processing any external stimuli. </p>
<p>Tyrea follows his wide-eyed corpse gaze. It leads up, focused on what appears to be a giant processing unit. All very fashionable and shiny, but Shulk has both seen and built weirder and bigger, so really, the reaction’s a little overblown.</p>
<p>Then the kid all-out stops breathing, and Tyrea has to bite back the first, second, and third things sitting on her tongue, all of which are demands that end in a copious number of question and exclamation marks. </p>
<p>“So. We okay?” is what she goes for instead.</p>
<p>Melia has on her typical concerned face, the one which implies that what’s going on definitely isn’t healthy but also won’t result in sobbing breakdowns or sudden explosions as long as everyone proceeds with caution. “Shulk?” she prods gently.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m alright,” Shulk responds vacantly, complete with his <em>ha ha well at least we’re not dancing in lava!</em> smile. It wobbles like a poorly-set jelly, but at least there’s a jelly to begin with.</p>
<p>Also, if that giant processing unit is seriously that troubling to behold, then maybe it deserves to be blown up. </p>
<p>Tyrea settles for following everyone into the transporter. Maybe she’s reading into things sideways, and she doesn’t want to unbreak someone’s ribs if they come flying at her in a furious rage.</p>
<p>Agniratha is the kind of city that the weedier politicians back in Alcamoth would kill to get their hands on: fancy, advanced, and self-sustaining. It’s the kind of city Shulk would probably daydream up in his free time, which... actually, that’s kind of messed up. </p>
<p>“Why are you treating everything like it’s going to explode?” Tyrea says suspiciously, after she watches Melia pull her hand off a wall like it’s made of termites. “Are there switches in the wall? Do we need to rig the place up to explode?”</p>
<p>“No, no, no,” Shulk hurries to say. “It’s not that. Um, we weren’t the ones who blew it up last time.”</p>
<p>Which means that the place <em>can</em> blow up, and the guilty party is still out there with their hand presumably on the trigger. “Wow,” Tyrea says. “I am so relieved. Let’s hurry it up.”</p>
<p>The Ponspectors eventually break off entirely after they stumble across the second petrified Telethia of the day, which is just so incredibly cool! Wow! Would you look at our dead ancestors, Melia? Don’t they look chipper and incredibly healthy for their age?</p>
<p>Fun thoughts all around, really. At least the Ponspectors are happy to have an ancient, advanced city to fuel their wildest papers. </p>
<p>Shulk eventually leads them to the Data Centre, where Tyrea’s free to catch up on all the tragedy that took place in the general vicinity. Nothing she sees particularly surprises her. It’s a good montage to support the argument that gods should go die in a hole somewhere, but otherwise, it’s predictable and only serves to fill in a few potholes nobody else was able to for fear of caving the whole thing into a trauma ravine.</p>
<p>“Like an old-fashioned bedtime story,” Tyrea muses aloud. “Terrifying, horrible, and most definitely not suited for children.”</p>
<p>Melia sighs. “You’re such a cynic.”</p>
<p>Shulk pokes his head out of the corner with a wide grin. “I broke into the Seven Sage Cloister,” he says cheerily. “No more monotonous terminal requests!”</p>
<p>Obviously Tyrea doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but going by the way Melia lights up like Shulk just told her she’s allowed to indiscriminately set everything alight, it’s probably a good thing.</p>
<p>The three of them shuffle out onto the balcony lovingly called a cloister. It offers a nice view of the Meyneth Shrine, all shiny and... shriney, and the atmosphere would probably be a whole lot nicer if the majority of their little crew didn’t radiate stress. </p>
<p>Eventually they all have enough of basking in the silence, and Shulk leads the way to their coveted ether accelerator. </p>
<p>Of course it’s in some rusted old building that looks like it’ll drop on their heads at any moment. Why wouldn’t it be? They haven’t experienced the joys of structural failure since Galahad, and Tyrea can’t say she’s overjoyed to see this rerun.</p>
<p>Melia pokes carefully at the walls with her staff. “We should proceed with caution,” she suggests. “We’ve made it this far; let’s not be done in by some falling metal.”</p>
<p>They manually pry their way past a couple walls of debris and down into a surprisingly well-kept underground chamber. It has that nice warm lampshade-esque lighting, which Tyrea can’t exactly call cozy given that she’s certain one cut from anything here would imprint tetanus directly onto her genes. But hey: if that giant, tube-shaped cross-section is what Tyrea thinks it is, then maybe alien blood poisoning isn’t so bad after all.</p>
<p>“Is this our stop?” Tyrea asks, keeping a careful eye on the giant red switch on the wall. </p>
<p>Shulk eyes the same giant red switch with one part fear, two parts relief. “Yes. Definitely.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s figure it out. How do we make it so we don’t accidentally blow the place up?”</p>
<p>“Linada gave me an operating manual.” The manual Shulk pulls out has the same girth as a brick and looks like it weighs the same. It’s the kind of thing Tyrea would use to kill the person who gave it to her. “Fortunately, I’ve worked with accelerators of Machina origin, and this is one of the older versions. I did some light reading, so as long as we're careful, we should be fine.”</p>
<p>Melia eyes the manual. Her face says <em>how is that light reading, you maniac</em> while her mouth says, “Ever the diligent one, Shulk. Thank you for your hard work.”</p>
<p>From there on, all that’s left is a victory lap. </p>
<p>What? It’s true! Everything’s finally coming together. Tyrea can practically taste all the coffee she’ll be injecting directly into her veins for the oncoming all-nighters. Not a pleasant thought, but a familiar one: just what they all need right now. Familiarity. Grounding. Fewer explosions.</p>
<p>Shulk and Melia flit about the lab, carefully tweaking this knob and that knob. Tyrea clears out a space and then furiously sanitizes it, because if Shulk walks out of the death laser with a hole in his chest, someone has to heal him, and that someone should preferably be familiar with the classic whoops-silly-reflexes hole-in-chest injury.</p>
<p>“Is Zanza acting up at all?” Tyrea asks, slipping off her gloves for a new pair. “Any... I don’t know, divine temper tantrums? Headaches? Dizziness? Anything?”</p>
<p>“Nothing I don’t already know how to recognize,” is Shulk’s worryingly casual response. He meets Melia’s sharp stare with a weak smile. “I’ve got it handled! Really. I’m kind of a pro at this point.”</p>
<p>Not to kick a broken record back to squeaking out awful music again, but Tyrea really has to ask: “Is that right? And how exactly are you handling it?”</p>
<p>“It’s pretty simple,” Shulk says brightly, like a sun stuck in greyscale. “Since I can’t discern which thoughts are mine and which aren’t, it’s safest to treat every thought like it’s intrusive. Then I can filter through them individually, and no god has the patience to rationalize every semi-murderous thought.”</p>
<p>The easiest way to wipe that bright, proud, <em>look at me I’m so functional</em> smile off Shulk’s face would be to punch him. But Tyrea needs him to be able to breathe and not be hunched over bleeding into a pool of his own blood. She compromises.</p>
<p>“You must be running on all cylinders,” she says, equipping her very best targeting eyes. </p>
<p>Shulk is not intimidated by the targeting eyes. Damn. “It’s nothing new,” he declares firmly. “One could argue it’s what I do best.”</p>
<p>“Goodness, would you look at the time,” Melia loudly interrupts, probably two seconds away from bolting everyone in the room unconscious. “We should try to be out of here by dark. Shulk? Will you help me configure the rest?”</p>
<p>Ten minutes later and the lab’s got a faint hum running through the walls, in the classic up-and-running kind of buzz. Tyrea hopes that the load-bearing posts live up to their name and don’t send the entire city crashing down on their heads, but even that is too much to ask for. Basically, all they can hope is that nobody dies, the city doesn’t blow up too much, and evil mister Egil doesn’t crash the afterparty demanding why and how they broke into his house.</p>
<p>Shulk is very, very pale when Tyrea dumps the Monado out of its sheath and onto the ground.</p>
<p>Wonderful. Tyrea wonders if she can pull her Named Monster piss-yourself trick on a divine manifestation of will. “Nobody’s going to get their souls eaten today, right?” </p>
<p>“Unless Shulk wants to tell us something about a new diet he picked up, then no. The Monado can’t act maliciously on its own. Zanza has to decide to eat our souls, and I’m sure Shulk would inform us about any... primal urges,” Melia answers, eyes darting over to a very nervous Shulk.</p>
<p>Shulk appreciates the attention as much as a man about to publicly hang. He shakes his head mournfully. “No, I... no. It’s only afterward that we need to be careful. Once Zanza’s back in his Monado, he’ll be injured enough to get hungry.”</p>
<p>All these revelations are shaping up to make one of the worst days Tyrea’s ever had. Fortunately, nobody thought to turn on the crockpot, so all the disaster stew’s doing is sitting around, lukewarm and disgusting, but not actively on fire.</p>
<p>“But we have a counter play,” Tyrea points out. She gestures to the True Monado, which Shulk has wisely placed some ways away from the death ray machine. “Any god that tries to eat us alive might find it hard to chew after we remove his jaw from his face.”</p>
<p>“Grim,” Shulk mutters, then louder, “but true. Um, Tyrea, could I ask you a favour?”</p>
<p>“What? You need me to rub your shoulders?”</p>
<p>“If I happen to walk out with a hole in my chest, could you use the True Monado in my place? As Zanza repellant, I mean.”</p>
<p>Are there rules in place to prohibit that sort of thing? Tyrea’s pretty sure there are rules in place to prohibit that sort of thing. “Am I going to lose an arm if I do?”</p>
<p>“Only if you cut it off yourself.” Ooh, eyeroll. The boy’s getting amped up.</p>
<p>Speaking of getting amped up, Melia’s been standing next to the switch for a while now, and is therefore trying desperately not to fidget and overthink every single one of her decisions up until now. “Shall we get started?” she asks the room at large. “The Ponspectors are on standby outside in case we need to be dug up, Tyrea’s ready to work construction on any organic potholes, and I would like to take a very long nap. Ready?”</p>
<p>Shulk takes a deep breath. “Ready.”</p>
<p>The three of them exchange a solemn nod, then prepare to watch two gods get bodied, only one out of existence.</p>
<p>Melia flips the switch—</p>
<p>—Except she doesn’t, because what the fuck, is that <em>Vanea</em> clambering through the debris, what is she doing here— </p>
<p>Ah. Crockpot on high. Fucking great.</p>
<p>“What are you <em>doing?</em>” demands an impressively high-strung and frenzied Vanea. Her eyes blow wide when she sees a startled Melia with her hand on the switch and an even more startled Shulk standing directly in the line of fire.</p>
<p>“Hi?” Shulk tries meekly, which of all the reactions leaves a lot to be desired, but at least it’s not <em>oh nooo mom’s home, time to mop up the blood</em> or <em>I will pay you so much money if you turn around and pretend you saw nothing.</em></p>
<p>Vanea presumably concludes that if she lets any more of this idiocy continue, they’re all going to die. “How did you get here,” she demands, a lot more hostile than Tyrea’s used to, “and of all the many valuable, defunct pieces of machinery in Agniratha, why did you choose to raid the ether accelerator? <em>Why are you still standing in the chamber?</em>”</p>
<p>Shulk shuffles his feet but makes no attempt to move. “It’s... kind of a long story?”</p>
<p>“I have time,” Vanea says sharply. </p>
<p>“Well, this should be fun,” Tyrea mumbles, though clearly not quietly enough, because now Vanea’s giving her the evil side-eye. “Awesome. Wonderful. Another Majestic Mordred. Fall in, team. Let’s tell this story exactly how it stands.”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Vanea seems a lot more willing to put up with their nonsense after receiving context for it, which sure says a lot about her. Tyrea approves.</p>
<p>At first, she’s ready to toss them all off Agniratha and watch them hit every elevator platform on the way down. But then Shulk explains that no, he’s not here to strike the Mechonis where it hurts most, and no, he’s not actually a huge fan of the Monado. He’s actually kind of allergic! Also, touching the damn thing at all might result in the immediate heat death of the universe, ha ha! Oh, this bright blue stick? Don’t worry about it. It’s just a better, stronger, morally upright Monado. Sorry it’s so bright. It only came with one setting, which is why it needs to be returned.</p>
<p>Melia and Tyrea’s explanations are tame by comparison: just a princess and an assassin with a lot of emotional baggage, trying desperately to curb the apocalypse before it hits. </p>
<p>A few useful names are dropped along the way. Zanza (with exaggerated but deserved disdain), Miqol (“he’s like... Vanea, he’s like a big, jolly, metal Chief Dunga, I am so confused”), and Egil. That last one seems to seal the deal, especially when Vanea realizes that they haven’t mentioned murdering or killing in reference to her brother throughout the entire conversation.</p>
<p>“You honestly believe you can come to terms with each other?” she asks them desperately, hostility completely cashed in for cautious hope.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Shulk says confidently. “None of this needed to happen. Nobody wanted any of it to happen. We can all move toward the future together.”</p>
<p>Or, for some of them, <em>back</em> into the future. But that would ruin a perfectly good sentiment, and Tyrea has sat through enough of Melia’s rallying speeches for the magic of emotional appeal and sentence structure not to stick at least a little. </p>
<p>It’s a relief to have someone who has legitimate experience pressing buttons, and Vanea literally has more experience than all of them combined. Hooray for no accidental explosions!</p>
<p>“Allow me to confirm,” Vanea says, tweaking some nob some way. “Your plan is to force Zanza out from Shulk by directing a concentrated blast of ether at Shulk, which will not only force Zanza out, but damage both to a significant degree.”</p>
<p>Leave it to Vanea to be able to say that with a straight face. Tyrea would be livid and putting her fists repeatedly through the nearest wall. “That’s the gist of it, yeah. I’ll use Shulk’s Monado to ward Zanza off if he tries to eat our souls.”</p>
<p>“And you’re not concerned about killing Shulk?”</p>
<p>Tyrea rolls her eyes. “No, because if it won’t kill Zanza, it sure as hell won’t kill Shulk.”</p>
<p>Vanea glances as Shulk, who stares dead-on back. “I’m stronger than Zanza,” he says evenly, the same way most people would say <em>it’s sunny out. </em></p>
<p>“We’re somewhat familiar with deporting unwanted gods,” Melia puts in casually, making the whole vibe lean more toward <em>it’s sunny out, which means it’s a perfect day to dethrone god.</em> “Even if Shulk needs to sit this one out, the Ponspectors will surely pick up the slack.”</p>
<p>“Ponspectors?”</p>
<p>“TIL WE DIE,” comes the echoing chant from above. Vanea responds with a full-body flinch while everyone else nods to themselves.</p>
<p>“I see,” Vanea says, likely under the assumption that they’ve somehow summoned an eldritch demon to help supplex their Lord into the trash. “May I suggest a slight alteration to your plan?”</p>
<p>Shulk frowns. Tyrea doesn’t blame him; that phrase usually precedes unplanned budget reviews and mass confiscation of energy supplements. “Is there something wrong?”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not that. It’s simply... how should I put this?” A tired, long-suffering sigh punctuates one sentence and the next, and Vanea’s moving to reveal some sort of metal triangle, and she’s barely gotten past, “This will sound absurd, but—”</p>
<p>“Is that <em>Meyneth?</em>” comes blurting out of Shulk’s mouth like a powder keg to a dam.</p>
<p>“That <em>is</em> Meyneth,” Melia whispers, the very picture of flabbergasted.</p>
<p>Vanea looks at Shulk. Then she looks at Melia. She then turns and fixes Tyrea with an expectant, exhausted expression.</p>
<p>Tyrea lifts her hands in innocence. “Don’t look at me. Last time I checked, Meyneth was a goddess and not some metal brick.”</p>
<p>“Do you—” Vanea cuts herself off once, then twice, then gives up on that particular train of thought altogether. Despairing, she finally asks, “Do you operate like this all the time?”</p>
<p>“Eh.” Tyrea shrugs, giving a so-so hand tilt.</p>
<p>It’s wonderful, truly, how everyone that encounters their fun little group immediately gives up the will to live. Who knows? Maybe Melia can give Egil a firm stare and they can all go home and finally take a shower.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Personally, Melia thinks Vanea’s suggestion is ludicrous. </p>
<p>Not that it’s bad! It’s actually a very good idea. Any proposal that comes with built-in guardrails is a dream come true, because it at least means if the whole parade is going to end up careening off a cliff and into the ocean, they can at least examine the residue on the rails to make the investigation report easier to draft.</p>
<p>But Melia has to admit: she never thought she’d see the day when a Machina, let alone Vanea, suggested that they put Shulk and Zanza at one end, Meyneth at the other, fire them at each other, and then have some meddling mortals blast both of them out of existence.</p>
<p>Well. Not fired <em>at</em> each other. That’s not how an ether accelerator works. But the idea is more or less the same.</p>
<p>Tyrea, for one, is borderline gleeful, though that might be because she doesn’t have to go around sampling suspect fluids and putting them in individual evidence bags to swear over later. “You want Meyneth to <em>tackle</em> Zanza out of Shulk? I mean, that’ll make things easier, since Zanza will have to deal with his mortal enemy before trying to eat us, but wow. Tackled! Is Meyneth alright with this?”</p>
<p>“She is. She... she spoke to me, while you were journeying through Bionis.”</p>
<p>“Damn. Wish our god was like that. Not you, Shulk, don’t give me those sad puppy eyes. What, did Zanza miss out on God 101?”</p>
<p>“I believe the only being with the answer to that question is Lady Meyneth.”</p>
<p>“Right, because... right. I wouldn’t mind getting to know Meyneth a bit better. It’s an honest shame that everything happened the way it did.”</p>
<p>“Indeed.”</p>
<p>“Meyneth possesses the bravery of all the royal guard interns combined,” Melia grumbles, prodding the Monado back into its sheath with her staff. There’s a little bit of resistance, like two magnets that have a death grudge with each other, but Melia’s death grudge is far more potent than the age-old hang-ups of some foolish god. </p>
<p>She cranks the lid closed and kicks the entire contraption into a corner.</p>
<p>“Lady Meyneth and Zanza have a long, complicated history,” Vanea continues solemnly, or as solemn as one can be while they’re shoving their god into a giant metal tube. “Lady Meyneth... She is tired, and wishes to leave the world to her children.” Shove, shove. “We mortals, who share only a fraction of their time, could not hope to understand.” <em>Thwonk.</em> That would be the suction. “Shulk? What is your opinion?”</p>
<p>“Huh? Oh, yes, I agree,” Shulk says, with a dazed expression that means he’s equally as disturbed as he is mesmerized. “Frankly, I think Zanza finished serving his sentence quite a while back. The usual ‘either you die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain’ sort of thing.”</p>
<p>Vanea pauses. “Served his sentence?” she repeats warily.</p>
<p>“No, it’s nothing. I respect Lady Meyneth’s decision. It’ll be less for me to worry about when I’m on the floor bleeding.”</p>
<p>Goodness! A lot of commentary packed with implications from Shulk, over there. Vanea doesn’t seem too alarmed—more confused and sad, if anything—so Melia decides she doesn’t need to pull anyone out and have a quick chat with them.</p>
<p>The entire length of the accelerator glows a warm orange. Vanea takes a slow breath and puts a hand on the switch. “Shall we begin?”</p>
<p>“No better time,” says Shulk. He takes a deep breath and holds it. “I certainly hope Lady Meyneth has good aim.”</p>
<p>The four of them exchange a solemn nod.</p>
<p>Vanea moves to flip the switch— </p>
<p>—Except she doesn’t, because a resounding <em>BOOM</em> shakes the entire city on its very old and rusted hinges. </p>
<p>Everyone is silent for a while.</p>
<p>Shulk sighs loudly into his hands. It’s a long, deep sigh that communicates to Melia he would like nothing better than to be shot directly into the fifth dimension. “Quick question,” he says, completely dead inside. “Does Egil happen to be in right now?”</p>
<p>“Apparently,” Vanea responds, just as existentially disappointed.</p>
<p>Tyrea huffs in irritation, but makes no move to stab anything. “Nothing for it,” she grumbles, exchanging her surgical gloves for her usual studded gauntlets. “Let’s go have a talk. Melia?”</p>
<p>Ah. Yes, she’s supposed to be the diplomat here. </p>
<p>Melia retrieves her staff from the corner and dips her head in acknowledgement. Tyrea cracks a lopsided grin. Shulk glances nervously between them, like Melia’s just loaded a gun and handed it over to Tyrea, which... isn’t entirely inaccurate. Still.</p>
<p>“We will sort this out through the power of self-reflection,” Melia declares unto the world. “The problem is one we already know how to solve. We will not allow any peeled banana god or chain-smoking, gun-toting agent of chaos to deter us. My friends, let us march onward to Topple-Lock land without hesitation!”</p>
<p>And with that, the lot of them make for the Meyneth Shrine, all while Vanea quietly mutters <em>peeled banana</em> and <em>chain-smoking</em> and <em>topple lock</em> and <em>what is going on</em> under her breath.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It is perhaps a good thing that Melia can only Topple under specific circumstances.</p>
<p>Why? Well, this is just Shulk’s opinion, which happens to be a rather informed opinion, but for all Melia Antiqua appears innocent and demure and whatever other misinformed adjectives get tossed around in court, she’s kind of a miniature apocalypse. Just a concentrated ball of ether, rage, and Starlight Kick that’s waiting patiently for anyone to give it an excuse to stick a metal rod through their sternum.</p>
<p>Melia is a very powerful individual. This is further proven as she mournfully unequips her Poison Plus VI and rolls it lovingly around in her hands like a sourdough starter that’s been passed down six generations of a family line. </p>
<p>Vanea gives the gem a long look, then shifts her gaze to Melia, then to Shulk, as if quietly demanding <em>YOU’RE GOING TO SIC</em> THAT <em>ON MY BROTHER?</em></p>
<p>So yes, thank the very fabric of divine existence that Melia isn’t the best Toppler. If she was, the entire world would probably break apart and cease to exist. Because that is the way of scary, determined, DoT masters.</p>
<p>(Riki... Riki might be in that category as well. Note: further analysis required.)</p>
<p>It is also very, very good that Melia doesn’t have a personalized, tailored grudge against Egil. Considering what happened to the last person to check themselves onto that list, it would be wise for any up-and-coming evil villains to steer as far away from Alcamoth as possible. Or maybe they could line themselves up outside of Alcamoth and have Tyrea punt them off the Shoulder one by one? Confusing times all around, really. Politics are hard.</p>
<p>What isn’t hard is Topple-Locking. </p>
<p>Thank god Tyrea somehow taught herself two separate Topple Arts (Shulk has no love for god, but he loves his friends, and he knows from experience that’s enough to get by). The indiscriminate yelling from Yaldabaoth even shifts from Shulk to Tyrea, which... wow! Crazy, right? Leave it to Tyrea to make herself so threatening a target that all other concerns just melt away. Absolutely terrifying, that Tyrea. </p>
<p>Speaking of Tyrea, she looks only vaguely murderous as she disengages combat in the presence of a very-not-dead but perpetually Toppled enemy. Melia looks practically serene through the ease of long practice. </p>
<p>Shulk slings the True Monado on his back. “Help me up?” he requests of the Ponspectors.</p>
<p>“Up <em>where</em>,” Egil demands. Can Machina burst veins from sheer force of rage? A good question that’s becoming all the more relevant by the moment. </p>
<p>The Ponspectors are happy to hoist Shulk up a few comparatively insignificant but metaphorically profound meters. They disassemble as soon as Shulk’s clambered onto Yaldabaoth’s shin. Then they immediately start poking at giant, golden Mechon toes because they fear neither god nor death. </p>
<p>“Very curious hydraulic system,” Wunwun says to his colleagues, who all eagerly nod back. <em>Snap.</em> That… that would be a toe being percussively realigned.</p>
<p>Shulk continues to clamber his way up. He settles himself down on Yaldabaoth’s shoulder and stares long and hard at the headpiece.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he says.</p>
<p>“That’s not the Monado,” Egil responds accusingly. </p>
<p>“It’s technically <em>a</em> Monado, just not <em>the</em> Monado.” This report is going to read so weird on paper. “Could you pop the top off? I don’t know where to look and it’s making me uncomfortable.”</p>
<p>“Your wretched creatures are ripping my toes off,” Egil says, and Shulk has to look down for a second to make sure—yup, that’s true, he’s entirely correct. Melia and Tyrea have taken it open themselves to watch in amused horror as Setset uses his Biter to twist off a chunk of bright metal, then uses his personal biters as an identification method.</p>
<p>Shulk tries not to look too much like he wants to die. Truth in advertising only works if the product is desirable, and Shulk really doesn’t have that kind of self confidence. “Biting’s the worst they’ll do, I promise,” he lies through his teeth. “So. Um, off with the top?”</p>
<p>“Why,” Egil says flatly.</p>
<p>“Eye contact is important in communication between two misunderstood parties,” Melia says. “Come now, good sir. Think of it as useful practice for the future.”</p>
<p>“You and I have very different visions for the future,” Egil tries threateningly, then to Shulk, “Are you going to kill me or what?”</p>
<p>“Oh, the poor guy thinks <em>killing</em> him is the worst we can do,” Tyrea mutters, just loud for everyone to hear. </p>
<p>“Ignore her,” Melia tells Egil, when Yaldabaoth’s giant metal head groans to send targeting eyes Tyrea’s way. Tyrea targets back. Melia heaves a deep sigh. “Perhaps we ought to do it the old-fashioned way. Shulk?”</p>
<p>All Shulk can think is: well, at least nobody’s getting their head chopped off today. Just pried off, and that’s a major upgrade. Fewer nightmares and regrets down the road? I’ll have two of those, thank you very much.</p>
<p>With Yaldabaoth’s head popped up by the True Monado’s very sharp edge, Shulk can indeed check and confirm that yes, Egil does indeed look one part confused, two parts hostile. </p>
<p>“Hi there,” Shulk says again. </p>
<p>Egil glares. His gaze shifts slowly up to the True Monado. “You act as if you possess free will of your own,” he says pointedly.</p>
<p>That’s a can of worms Shulk decides to carefully put aside for now. “We’ve been around this particular block a couple of times. We were actually about to... um, do some renovating on an existential and universal level, if you were interested.”</p>
<p>The utter and complete lack of understanding on Egil’s face really shouldn’t be surprising. </p>
<p>“What he means to say,” Tyrea interrupts loudly, rolling her eyes like they’re all too stupid to live, “is that we’re going to punch Zanza out of Shulk by using a Meyneth-infused laser beam, and then we’ll laser all <em>that</em>, and then the word will explode but Shulk will do a good job putting it back together.”</p>
<p>Melia massages the bridge of her nose like she wants to go around and take their individual measurements so she can appropriately muzzle them, and possibly so she has coffins at the ready for when she inevitably kills them all. “What Tyrea means to say,” she says in her coldest <em>listen to me or die a slow and painful death voice</em>, “is that none of us are particularly fond of Zanza, and if Meyneth wants to settle her grudge with him personally, we certainly won’t argue.” She pauses, as if testing to see if the Piranhaxes she just dumped into the pool have eaten anyone yet. “Do we all understand?”</p>
<p>Egil narrows his eyes. Or—nope, that’s a squint. It’s not malicious; just confused and only slightly fearful. “Are you the Empress of the High Entia?”</p>
<p>“Was and will be,” is Melia’s response, which is seriously worrying without context.</p>
<p>So now would be a really good time for that! Context, Shulk means. The wonderful gift of context.</p>
<p>Vanea seems to be riding the same flaming double-decker bus to purgatory, because she also looks like she wants to take a thousand year-nap if only to make sure that when she wakes up, this squabble of poison-hurling, knife-throwing, Monado-busting children is gone. “Perhaps you should explain,” she suggests tiredly. “From the beginning, if possible.”</p>
<p>Tyrea shrugs. “I don’t mind. Another unfortunate soul tossed into the fray? Sounds good to me.”</p>
<p>Egil is visibly displeased. He holds a silent and short conversation with Vanea by silent sibling-speak alone, probably something like <em>WHAT IS GOING ON</em> but in size 244 font and tattooed on his forehead.</p>
<p>“So!” Tyrea begins ruthlessly, cracking a very lopsided and evil grin. “Where to begin? My cultish hellhole of a childhood? That one’s fun. Or maybe Melia’s role as empress to a condemned race? That one’s fun, too. Or maybe even Shulk’s divine identity crisis? Lots to choose from, really. We should just throw a dart and see which one of us it hits—the story will make just as much sense chronologically, alphabetically, or randomly, which is none! Fucking <em>awesome</em>.”</p>
<p>“We go clockwise starting from Shulk,” Melia says, sticking one hand in front of Tyrea’s face as if the obstruction will somehow contain the chaos. Shulk has his doubts, given Melia can light her hands on fire at will. “Fair warning, though: the only person who could answer all our questions has decided to turn tail and run, which is all the better for him, because I am going to supplex him up to the <em>knees</em> when I get my hands on him.”</p>
<p>...Maybe Shulk should hurry up and start talking before Egil convinces himself they’re all lunatics and splits the Bionis in half like an avocado. At least avocados are green inside, so truth in advertising.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Egil takes the news surprisingly well. Even better, he reacts like a reasonable person would: by declaring that they’re all terrible and awful harbingers of doom, and that they’re insane and irresponsible for taking the fate of the world into their own hands.</p>
<p>Shulk would agree if the situation wasn’t already a burning skeleton of the absurdly flammable house it was before. He’s saved from trying to explain to Egil that they’re super cool, just the bestest in the land, total warriors of justice, by a very bored Tyrea. </p>
<p>She decides to point out that they’re full of rage and like to go fast. A very good argument there from Advisor Tyrea, as always.</p>
<p>In the end, Egil has to concede, partly because a massive fleet of new variables has decided to airstrike his worldview, and also because he’s probably a little happy to have new members in the Zanza-killing club. </p>
<p>They should all go out for ice cream after this debacle is over! Just... a nice, relaxing club activity to break the ice. Maybe they could get pins. Or t-shirts! Ones that say <em>I killed god and all I got was this lousy shirt.</em> Or, uh, new body textures for the Machina, since the closest available fabric on the market built to survive constant wear against metal is leather battle gear. </p>
<p>But Egil also raises a bitter but very valid point: “You know <em>nothing</em> about me.”</p>
<p>This is true. No being from Bionis (except maybe the Nopon Sage, but that’s a nightmare for later) can fully comprehend the sort of agonizing emotional trauma a couple thousand years of isolation and hatred can do to a person. Imagine losing something that can’t be replaced to a god you can't hope to touch, and then imagine the people under that god twisting the narrative in a way that benefits them and their silly, ignorant, mundane lives. It’s just a little difficult to comprehend, isn’t it?</p>
<p>But you can’t fault someone for trying.</p>
<p>Shulk really doesn’t have the emotional capacity to process anything other than the feral cat biting at its bars in his brain right now. He tries anyway.</p>
<p>“I’m your narrative foil,” he says, deadpan.</p>
<p>Silence. Tyrea’s brows shoot up and Melia sighs into her hands. </p>
<p>“What,” Egil says uncomprehendingly.</p>
<p>“I’m your situation foil,” Melia tags on. “If that’s a thing. It’s the closest term I can think of.”</p>
<p>“I’m probably your redemption arc,” Tyrea concludes.</p>
<p>A contemplative silence follows.</p>
<p>“Okay, to be accurate, I’m probably a vague outline of your redemption arc,” Tyrea allows, giving a so-so twist of the hand. “We’re in the same ‘misshapen worldview, unnecessarily long hitlist, try to make amends’ chair, but like. One’s a stool and the other’s a sitting pillow. Same function, different form.”</p>
<p>“And I suppose we have more in common than I originally anticipated,” Melia muses. She nods slowly to herself. “Yes. Yes, that’s right. A homeland destroyed at the hands of a god with his head up his own arse, of course, that one’s a given. Then there’s being uncertain of which direction to take except vaguely forward. I can’t possibly leave out the complex and difficult-to-navigate dynamic with one’s people and subjects. Hm. Yes, I do believe that means one more name on the therapy list.”</p>
<p>Tyrea somehow has a notebook and a pen that she pulled out from some pocket dimension. She’s also smiling like a knife, which is the more worrying part. “Nice.” </p>
<p>Egil turns his gaze to Shulk with an expression that communicates he’s ready for Shulk to peel off his Homs face and reveal an Egil doppelganger underneath.</p>
<p>“I’m you but with a support system,” he says curtly. The details can wait for later, when the feral cat isn’t clawing literal holes out of its cage. “Can we please abort my brain baby now? I would really appreciate it.”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Well, this is certainly a familiar sight.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>What? Aren’t you happy to see me?</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p><em>Happy</em> is a seriously generous term, Alvis.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Of course. I understand your, ah, general irritation. You must be upset that you lost the bet to Empress Melia. There is no shame in losing to Her Majesty, I assure you. She tends to win most things.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Okay, yes, that’s fair, but you couldn’t have… I don’t know, stepped in a little? Given a few hints? <em>Told us anything about time travel?</em> Since you’re apparently a magical wizard computer with complete omnipotence and all? You couldn’t have gone, oh, whoops, looks like I accidentally deleted a timeline, let’s just hit that convenient CTRL+Z? <em>It’s a shortcut, Alvis, I’m going to punch something.</em></p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>You seem to have done quite well for yourselves.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>…I really am going to introduce Melia’s fist to your face.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>I kid, of course. But I won’t lie that I was a little hesitant to introduce myself to your motley little group. It would be like throwing fuel on a fire. Nothing gets better, nothing gets worse, but everything certainly gets more on fire.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Welcome to life. It sucks here. Answers, please? Preferably coherent ones, or else I’ll have to try and translate for Tyrea, and god knows how many interpreters she’s made cry at the podium.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Of course. Then, to put it simply: The Rift staged a loud and violent revival tour and everything imploded.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>I now understand why Tyrea calls you a fancy-pants mystery man. Also, if I tell that to Tyrea, she’d punch me, and then she’d try to kill you.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Forgive me when I say I’ll take my chances. I truly did my best to aid in your endeavor, I promise. For one, the world should experience a… gentler break, this time. </p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p><em>What does that mean.</em></p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Why, no Rift, of course. Expect most things to rearrange as before. I’m sure the familiarity will be soothing.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>I may just punch you myself.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>You’re very welcome. While this isn’t as fun as that time we had an eternity-long vacation featuring a stowaway god and his dog, this certainly was rather entertaining to witness. For that, you have my thanks.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>You called me a clown. You just called me a clown. This entire world is a circus and I’m a clown.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>And goodness, what an act it has been. Wouldn’t you agree?</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>…I’m leaving.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Indeed. You have a great deal of work ahead of you, Shulk.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>And for the last time, <em>please</em> take back the Monado. Here you are. See? All nice and tidy! Just as shiny and sharp as before! I’ll just leave it here and see myself out.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly leave you without a weapon to defend yourself. Besides, I’m certain it’ll make a nice decoration. And so you’re aware, there is, in fact, a brightness setting. It’s a slide dial. Questionable design choices, yes, I’m aware. But your friends will be very impressed.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>You <em>greatly</em> overestimate my friends.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>And what interesting friends you have. Their reality-rending capabilities are quite potent, much to my dismay.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It really would kill you to give a straight answer for once, wouldn’t it?</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Perhaps. Although, if we are to be certain, I would have to die. I don’t mean to say I have any fear of death, but your friends seem to enjoy breaking the world into tiny, burning pieces, and as the administrator, I’d rather they not mistake me for an irritating plot device and set me on fire as well. All-seeing I may be, but flammable I am also. Thus, this is unfortunately where we part ways for now.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>And what a tragedy it’ll be. I’ll be seeing you around, then?</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>If you look hard enough.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>If you go around hiding in bushes, Melia really <em>will</em> kill you.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Excellent advice, I’m sure. Stay safe out there, Shulk. The world is much more frightening when you have to build it yourself.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Oh, I know. So many explosions. So many all-nighters. So much 48-Hour Energy. So many <em>mugs.</em></p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>I’ll leave you to it, then. Do try your best, Shulk. I’m sure it will make time pass all the more quickly.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>This is going to be so awful.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>:)</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>While Shulk’s reaction certainly isn’t unfounded, Alvis finds it a little rude of him to have ejected himself out of this wonderful memoryspace so quickly. The semi-spiritual, semi-space odyssey aesthetic isn’t for everyone, what with the constant nagging reminder that human life is ultimately short and meaningless on an individual scale and that one person can only amount to what the world around them chooses to accept, but all that is nothing compared to the void that is Shulk’s mind. </p>
<p>And just when they were having A Moment, too. That’s what they’re called, yes? Or Heart-to-Hearts, if you’re a completionist?</p>
<p>Surely Alvis’ company isn’t so horrid that Shulk, of all people, would gladly backflip into a world that Alvis is about to take a hammer to. </p>
<p>Alvis is very sad about it, of course. So sad. So very sad to finally put aside the fire extinguishers and all-nighters. So very, tremendously sad to finally say goodbye to empresses who work part-time as criminal demolitionists and sentient balls of fur with a proclivity for extreme violence and arson. </p>
<p>This reality has been overclocking ever since the Ponspectors joined the fray. For all of Alvis’ talents, playing firefighter is not one of them. </p>
<p>Certainly time travel doesn’t usually come bundled with spontaneous combustion. Something that obvious would be in the fine print, and Alvis reads every print that could be classified fine, let alone small. <em>This was not in the fine print.</em></p>
<p>Hopefully no realities decide to suddenly implode in the future. Alvis takes pride in the particular shade of his silver locks. Any more unreasonably loud explosions and he’ll have order hair dye alongside extinguishers en masse, and he likes to think he’s allowed at least a little pride. </p>
<p>Yes. Alvis thinks he’ll enjoy smashing this reality to pieces. God knows it’s been breaking itself plenty.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Obviously Tyrea had no expectations whatsoever, given that all of her expectations tend to grow legs, half a brain, and a crippling dependency on adrenaline and bad decisions. </p>
<p>This, though? She’ll take this any day of the week.</p>
<p>Alright, okay. There are obvious negatives. Shulk’s on the ground bleeding, for one, but that happens every other day in the labs, and is he dead? No? Then what’s the problem?</p>
<p>Another con: the death laser is a serious overachiever, especially juiced up with Meyneth energy or whatever the hell kind of incorporeal world-making magic gods have as lifeblood. It sure as hell isn’t ether, because the straight line of miscellaneous rusted metal and Mechon parts that just got blasted straight out of existence is, you know, <em>missing from this universe and probably stuck in another.</em></p>
<p>Maybe they should’ve let the ether accelerator relax a little before cranking the heat up to high and frying the ever-loving crap out of the Monado.</p>
<p>Then again, whatever kind of furious debate Meyneth and Zanza were having in there probably would’ve brought all of Agniratha down by sheer force of residual frustration and logical fallacy. And hey: it all works out in Tyrea’s favour! She likes her bacon crispy.</p>
<p>Agniratha’s new cross-city transportation tunnel is a later problem. For now, Tyrea’s main priority is making sure Shulk doesn’t go from occasional corpse to permanent corpse in her hands. That would be a little hard to explain to those overexcitable children in Colony 9. </p>
<p>Vanea’s making a fuss and all and Egil looks frankly horrified, and really—do they think this is the first bloody gap Tyrea’s had to pave over? Why can’t everyone have Melia’s bedside manners? She’s the only spectator here whose face isn’t doing weird, terrified things. To be fair, she’s seen worse, healed worse, and dealt worse, so maybe Melia’s just too crazy for any normal people to comprehend.</p>
<p>Vanea and Egil are supposed to be <em>normal</em> now. Tyrea can’t speak for Egil given he bit the bullet and then some last time around, but she’s heard good reviews. And Vanea can stop acting all scared and whatever. Put a hotly disputed thesis in front of her, give her a lab on the side, and watch her flip physics upside down while politely telling the entire science community that they’re screaming children who couldn’t philosophize their way out of a box. Those lectures are like circus acts, complete with flying animals that shouldn’t normally fly and a whole lot of fire. With mega tech nerd Egil joining the fray? Alcamoth U is going to explode. Tyrea won’t even be upset because academia isn’t her jurisdiction.</p>
<p>Anyway. Maybe all Egil and Vanea need is a bit of time to settle into their crazy shoes. They won’t last a second in Alcamoth otherwise.</p>
<p>This world really is going to shit. The faster Shulk takes a hammer to it and pieces everything back together into something manageable, the faster Tyrea can take her well-deserved paid leave. </p>
<p><em>“Bwuh,”</em> is how Shulk returns to the world, wide-eyed and twitchy, like he just dreamt up a million spiders attacking his face. </p>
<p>“Oh, good,” Tyrea says, immediately pushing him back down when he tries to sit up. “So our god infestation is gone?”</p>
<p>Shulk blinks. Then he squints. Then he looks over to the ether accelerator chamber, where a whole lot of nothing greets him. That nothing includes the absence of the evil-buzzsaw Monado, which is always a happy sight.</p>
<p>“I think?” is Shulk’s cautiously optimistic answer.</p>
<p>“Then good riddance,” Melia says, propping up another water elemental above Shulk’s head. “But I’m not sure how much we can do about that new scar of yours. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>The scar in question doesn’t look as much of an <em>oopsie, I did a stupid</em> as it does a <em>holy FUCK how are you ALIVE</em> kind of souvenir. Yes, it looks seven kinds of messed up and eight kinds of painful, but it also comes with a drinking story to beat out all other drinking stories (so this one time I killed god by having him doom lasered out of me). Tyrea’s almost jealous.</p>
<p>Shulk winces as he raises a hand to his holeless chest. Tyrea slaps it away. “You’ll be fine,” she tells him. “Alcamoth’s convenience stores have gallons of ether burn salve sitting around. We’ll get a prescription for a stronger one with automatic refills. Don’t fuss.”</p>
<p>“Oh, nice,” Shulk says, relieved. “I always forget to refill and I’m pretty sure the pharmacist has a hit out on me. Is the world breaking into pieces yet?”</p>
<p>Scattered focus is surely a sign of unfortunate things happening in the brain. Thankfully, they’ve only got one last push to the finish line, which means soft beds, and hot meals, and hot showers... </p>
<p>Tyrea’s never doing this world-saving vigilante thing ever again. Her skin can’t take it.</p>
<p>The Ponspectors, having returned from investigating Shulk’s question, put on expressions ranging from cheerful smiles to all-out dread. “Bionis and Mechonis both spitting light out of seams,” Wunwun informs them, somewhere in the middle of happy-dread. “Um. World probably going to reconstruct itself now according to Mister Shulk’s guidelines.”</p>
<p>Shulk lets out the loudest, longest, and most relieved sigh yet. “Oh, thank <em>god</em>.”</p>
<p>Egil and Vanea study Shulk with appropriate caution. In their defence, they just had their entire world turned upside down by the tiny blond kid who looks like he’s about to start sobbing out of joy immediately after being told both the Bionis and Mechonis are going to implode. </p>
<p>“Speaking of gods,” Melia says, “am I correct to assume that you held an impromptu executive meeting with Alvis and turned over the reins to him?”</p>
<p>Shulk nods into the crook of his elbow.</p>
<p>Melia lets out a little <em>tsk</em>. She crosses her arms and settles for sitting down on the ground, staring half-angrily at the cooling accelerator. “A shame. I would have loved to get in a word with him.”</p>
<p>“By ‘get a word in’, do you mean ‘put a fist in his face’?”</p>
<p>“Shulk, my friend, you know very well I would have treated him only to my finest roundhouse.”</p>
<p>“Amen to that.”</p>
<p>“Is Alvis this world’s new god?” Egil asks, flailing to keep up the hostility but rapidly losing his grip in the face of all this clownery. </p>
<p>“No, no,” both Melia and Shulk say in unison, even giving the same dismissive hand-wave. Freaky. Shulk continues with, “Alvis is the... I really don’t know how to put it. The administrative computer, I suppose? He’s here to make sure we don’t hit the delete key on the entire world.”</p>
<p>“But he allows glaring typos,” Egil points out flatly. </p>
<p>“He does allow typos,” Shulk confirms, half despairing, half hopeful. “So here’s to hoping all the beings in this world don’t decide to tap-dance all over the keyboard moving on from now.”</p>
<p>Tyrea mirrors Shulk’s growing grin. “What, so the world’s ours to mess with now?”</p>
<p>“Should be,” Shulk says. Then his eyes narrow, like someone’s been holding up a lightbulb over his head and he’s only now realized it. “But I have to say, Alvis was weirdly okay about how convoluted and recursive our actions were. He even let me keep this!”</p>
<p>Behold, the True Monado in all is glory, propped up on a nearby wall. Where it wasn’t before. Where it suddenly appeared after a vague gesture. It’s a neat party trick, at least. </p>
<p>Tyrea isn’t concerned. “Okay?” she says, failing to understand why Shulk’s so wide-eyed and concerned all of a sudden. “Your Monado, you mean?”</p>
<p>“Yes, my Monado,” Shulk repeats urgently, like Tyrea’s casual usage of <em>your Monado</em> is akin to describing a powder keg as a firecracker. “Alvis did his whole spiel—you know how he is, with the ‘this world belongs to you’ and ‘can’t want to see what you do next’, and he <em>let me keep the Monado</em>.”</p>
<p>“Fancy-pants mystery man, yeah. Continue.”</p>
<p>“So why did he say the world’s free of gods now, only to let me keep a god’s weapon?”</p>
<p>“Perhaps it truly is a harmless souvenir,” Vanea suggests, giving Shulk a worried look with how the kid looks like he’s been catapulted into a furnace and is now enjoying the vestiges of a panic attack. “Throughout this adventure of yours, have you ever exercised the powers of a god?”</p>
<p>Shulk’s gaping mouth slowly shuts. Ooh—swing and a very decisive hit. </p>
<p>“I… I don’t think so,” he says, uncertain.</p>
<p>“Would you like to try?”</p>
<p>“A wise suggestion,” Melia says, before Shulk can think himself into a spiral. “Why don’t you attempt something simple? Gods are able to freely manipulate ether in all its forms, no? Try to conjure up a flame.”</p>
<p>Melia’s using her <em>work with me, you stubborn fool</em> voice, so all Shulk can do is miserably try to set his hand on fire. </p>
<p>A minute of silence passes. “I don’t see any fire,” Melia says evenly.</p>
<p>“Maybe I didn’t try hard enough,” Shulk argues. “Maybe one day I’ll sneeze and set <em>everything</em> on fire, you know how I’m like—” </p>
<p>“You hardly need to sneeze to set everything on fire,” Tyrea tells him. “You still haven’t answered the fire chief’s request to duel for your honour, by the way.”</p>
<p>Shulk bolts up and flushes bright red. “Wh—that wasn’t my fault! My interns—” </p>
<p>“Are evil and magic, yes, I’m aware,” Melia says, patting Shulk’s shoulder placatingly. “So then, Shulk, now that we’ve established that your Monado is simply a reward for choosing to defy fate and not an administrator’s undo shortcut, shall we move to a safer location to prepare for the imminent destruction and recreation of the world?”</p>
<p>Shulk opens his mouth. Shuts it. Looks around the room and lets out a slow breath. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” he says, with finality. “We probably should.”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>The world breaks, as expected. </p>
<p>It’s rather mesmerizing to watch for the twenty seconds that there’s actually something to watch. Then the laws of reality get written, and they’re all hurtling through the sky to their presumed deaths to a Mechonis that really should’ve filled out the forms for extended leave before deciding to collapse into the ocean. From the initially tiny but rapidly growing specks Melia can see, Agniratha looks quite spiffy for a city that’s survived two world-altering events. It deserves a medal at this point.</p>
<p>Anyway, Miqol really has a knack for clutch piloting. Or at least getting other people to clutch pilot for him. Delegation is a perfectly respectable skill with many applications, such as building a fledgling world, or telling other people how to build a fledgling world.</p>
<p>The Ponspectors hit the deck like hacky sacks: twelve rapid <em>thunks</em> in quick succession. It’s adorable. </p>
<p>The rest of them hit the very metal, very firm deck with varying sounds of displeased surprise at varying volumes. Definitely not as adorable.</p>
<p>Then everyone stands up and pats themselves off. Miqol floats out. Egil makes eye contact.</p>
<p>Melia decides not to notice.</p>
<p>She moves to stand with Tyrea and Shulk over to the side while the resident Machina attempt to communicate normally with each other. It is, as expected, painful to watch. </p>
<p>“Thank goodness I don’t have any more estranged relatives,” Melia says contemplatively.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Well, that’s bingo for me,” Tyrea grumbles.</p>
<p>“Insert an <em>adoptive</em> in there and I’ll have to second that,” Shulk says sadly.</p>
<p>“Friends need therapy,” Hekasa tells them severely, and then the Junk tilts at a stomach-lurching forty-five degrees to dodge land. Going up. Land, going up, in the opposite direction to where normal land, according to the laws of gravity, should be going down.</p>
<p>All of them stare at the Shoulder as it cheerily situates itself just high enough to offer a gorgeous panoramic view of the Mainland while also being incredibly irritating to charter regular civilian transit to.</p>
<p>Melia sighs. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Something tells her she’ll be doing a lot more of it in the months to come.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Melia isn’t ashamed to say she cries a little when the Ponspectors reluctantly state that they should check in to see if the Archeology Center’s still standing. This, of course, means splitting off from the group and going their own way.</p>
<p>Wunwun tearfully declares that they’ll always be welcome in Frontier Village (even though only Chief Dunga can make that decision) and then proceeds to tearfully ask for funds.</p>
<p>Melia hands him a large bag of coins and promises to fund any future expeditions they have planned. Wunwun thanks her graciously for the overt nepotism. </p>
<p>“I’ll come and visit,” Melia promises, shaking Wunwun’s hand. “For now, please try not to blow up the village.”</p>
<p>“Ponspectors give it their all,” Wunwun says firmly.</p>
<p>The Machina seem terrified at the thought of letting the Ponspectors loose unto the world. Melia assures them that they mean no harm, they’re really not evil demons at all, they’re chaotic good at worst, so we should let them be free and do whatever they want. It’s what nature dictated when they were created.</p>
<p>Nobody looks even a little appeased, but that’s not Melia’s major concern at the moment. Her major concern is Alcamoth, and how they’re speeding toward a political firestorm.</p>
<p>She gives the Ponspectors each one last hug. So does Shulk. Tyrea settles for nodding approvingly on the side.</p>
<p>Then Melia turns to disembark. It’s been a little while since she last made a senator cry by smiling alone. Perhaps the familiarity will soothe her nerves.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Alcamoth goes insane when the Junks dumps their little group at the door and then zooms off to make sure the rest of the world hasn’t spontaneously exploded. </p>
<p>By insane, Tyrea means that the royal guard, the Special Ops Unit, and an entourage consisting of a very confused emperor, prince, and miscellaneous bowling-pin court officials wave their hands around uselessly while everyone tries to figure out what’s going on. Because everyone is useless. You’d think it’s the first time their lives have fallen to pieces. </p>
<p>Fortunately, this sure isn’t the first time Melia’s life has fallen to pieces. She taps her staff against the ground and delivers a firm command of <em>“Be calm!”</em> the same way she’d put her hand to a criminal and let loose Mind Blast full force.</p>
<p>Minds are metaphorically blasted. Everyone goes all star-struck while Melia hashes out orders, come on, people, I wrote a five-hundred-page emergency response procedure to this exact situation, politics aren’t going to set themselves on fire, let’s <em>go</em>.</p>
<p>So now everyone’s flailing around with some modicum of control. It’s like watching a mob get chased around by curious butterflies instead of pissed-off wasps the size of melons. </p>
<p>Lovely of Alcamoth to collectively decide that figuring out what the hell is going on is more important than checking out some local vigilantes and a girl who really sounds like the princess. It’s Tyrea’s favourite trick in the book: when shit hits the fan and people start triangulating who exactly threw it, blow up a building. Not only is the original problem solved, but now there’s a whole lot more on-fire rubble and screaming landlords. </p>
<p>Ah. Good times. Speaking of which, is Shulk going to unravel the secrets of those Nopon Bombs anytime soon? </p>
<p>“Melia,” says Kallian, putting a hand on his runaway sister’s shoulder while simultaneously staring daggers at the rascals who kidnapped her, “may we talk? Privately, I mean.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” says Melia, also staring daggers at Shulk and Tyrea in a very similar <em>if I come back to find Alcamoth a smoldering ruin, I will personally bury you</em> kind of way. </p>
<p>Shulk blurts out some promises and pleasantries, in that order, which is probably not the socially accepted order. It is, of course, hilarious. (“Of course, Melia, don’t worry, we’ll be good, we won’t even accept any weird unsolicited requests, oh, and, uh, I’m sure you mean to include the labs within Alcamoth when you say ‘no explosions in Alcamoth’—it’s really nice to see you, Prince Kallian! Tyrea, let’s go.”) </p>
<p>Awkwarding your way out of a situation isn’t Tyrea’s typical MO, but wow, does Shulk take it and break it. The boy could rob a bank at gunpoint, apologize to everyone for breaking some cheap decorative vase or whatever, then start on a tirade about how his life sucks while zip-tying everyone’s wrists and ankles. The witness testimonies would be awful. Could you imagine? <em>Officer, he was so skinny, and I felt so sorry for him, I gave him my lunch.</em> Okay, but what did he look like? <em>Sad and incredibly depressed. Did you know his criminal tendencies are substitutes for love and personal fulfillment, and that he feels as if he has no purpose in life? </em></p>
<p>Shulk seems to hate this incredibly valuable skill. He’s always been a weird kid. </p>
<p>Nope. No. No more stupid, awful, brain-using today. And you know what doesn’t use any higher cognitive functions at all? Eating. </p>
<p>And if there’s one place Tyrea knows would survive the apocalypse and corner the market by virtue of being the only business not bankrupt or actively irradiated, it’s Anila’s Deep-Fried Frenzy.</p>
<p>Anila’s Deep-Fried Frenzy could take over the world, and not just from a monopoly, tax-fraud, evil-capitalist way. Tyrea’s almost certain that the titular Anila used to dance around as a mercenary with the Bionite Order by slinging spells at people she was paid to kill, people that paid her, and anything that moved or was deemed vaguely irritating within five hundred meters. </p>
<p>Tyrea’s also pretty sure that Anila had a little stint in the palace where she taught casting and general badassery until an existential crisis and life calling hit her over the head. Which might explain a few things about Melia, but no. No more thinking. Only food.</p>
<p>“You two look like you’ve had a rough day,” Anila says, smiling like a particularly vindictive knife. </p>
<p>“Food,” Tyrea says. <em>“Now.”</em></p>
<p>Anila has the good graces not to upend a deep fryer over their heads. She looks way too happy to have private entertainment monkeys, since anyone else who could’ve tap-danced to her black heart’s content is screaming at a volume proportional to the situation: too loud and therefore too annoying. </p>
<p>“Let me get this straight,” Anila says. “You—” vague gesture toward a blankly chewing Shulk “—became a god for five minutes and managed to toss the entire world into a blender during those five minutes. And you—” deliberately targeted gesture toward Tyrea, which is rude and unappreciated “—single-handedly ousted the Bionite Order and plan on founding some collective intelligence agency.”</p>
<p>“The Coalition Intelligence Agency,” Tyrea snaps, stabbing into her fries with her fork. Shulk lets out a small noise of distress. “Or CIA, if that’s too big of a sentence for you.”</p>
<p>Anila cocks up a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “And will you be hiring?”</p>
<p>“Not <em>you</em>,” Tyrea says. “What you need to do is stay here and keep making food and serving drinks. Where else am I supposed to go when some weedy politician kidnaps another weedy politician, and something or another gets blown up, none of which will be my fault because I was here, enjoying my assorted deep-fried seafood combo meal with a side of peach soda and deep-fried cheesy fries while also staring at this clock on the wall and snipping out newspaper clippings, thereby cementing my alibi?”</p>
<p>Shulk raises his eyes fearfully up to the clock. It’s the sort of clock you’d pick out blindfolded from the clearance section: bright blue, shaped like a cat, and always half a minute too slow.</p>
<p>Anila entertains the thought by sighing. “You’re always so loud, with the fire and the flames and the demolition. Does our crown princess approve?”</p>
<p>Tyrea points accusingly at Anila with her fork. The cheesy fries on the end protest by clinging their cheesy innards to the plate. “First of all, you were totally the one who shot down that carrier twenty years ago, don’t think I forgot. And second, Melia is ridiculously good at convincing the public that buildings just happen to catch on fire.”</p>
<p>“The fire chief,” Shulk moans, then drops his head onto the table.</p>
<p>Anila finally allows them to leave after they promise to be back later and fill her in on all the morbid details because she’s a maniac, but she’s a maniac that has a business to run and a shop to clean down.</p>
<p>Of course Tyrea and Shulk only get five minutes of peace before <em>Teelan</em> of all people comes charging down the street like a dying man to the spring of knowledge. Which is an accurate metaphor, because he tackles a shock-still Shulk like an eighteen-wheeler to a passing Bunniv. Shulk crumples accordingly.</p>
<p>Tyrea manages not to say anything extraordinarily stupid like <em>WHY ARE YOU RUNNING AROUND WITHOUT SUPERVISION</em> by laughing instead. This is just one more problem she’s slam-dunking directly in the For Later bin.</p>
<p>“You’re insane and I think you’re my personal hero and inspiration now,” Teelan declares to Shulk, a little breathless.</p>
<p>Shulk responds by shutting down completely. Tyrea hauls him up as he slowly boots up again, because she’s a good friend and an even better handler. “Okay?” is Shulk’s equally as situationally inappropriate response.</p>
<p>“Your design for the Rhadamanthus is incredible!” Teelan forges relentlessly on, practically sugar-high with excitement. “The ether shield itself is revolutionary in its efficiency, but the orbital ring could have so many applications if only we built on a larger scale!”</p>
<p>The expression Shulk has on right now is the one he likes to wear when he’s overjoyed happy ethics courses are mandatory through every year of Alcamoth U’s engineering programs. “How about we go to the labs,” Shulk suggests, “and we can talk about orbital rings there?”</p>
<p>“Oh boy,” Teelan says gleefully, which is kiddy-speak for <em>holy shit mom, holy fuck</em>. “I’d be glad to show you around the labs! Um, you seem familiar with them already, but I’d be glad to show you what I’m working on!”</p>
<p>Teelan then proceeds to tugs Shulk ahead and in the direction where most city-contained explosions happen, but not before spinning around and saying, “Feel free to visit, Miss Tyrea! Miss Melia was calling for you, so maybe you could stop by later?”</p>
<p>Tyrea has approximately three functioning emotions. It is unfortunate that joy is one of them. “Yeah, sure. Get going. Try not to start a death feud with any of the supervisors.”</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault that they can’t write an academic paper to save their souls,” Shulk says, in a lofty tone adjacent to that of a god’s. So... a theoretical physics professor, probably. “Just because you need to read it over sixteen times to understand basic sentence structure doesn’t mean it’s—”</p>
<p>Teelan chooses this exact moment to tug and start running. Always a responsible one, that Teelan.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>(Tyrea takes a quick trip over to what’s left of Prison Island. It’s her job to discreetly kick things under the rug, so she goes. </p>
<p>Arglas-Zanza is conveniently gone. Tyrea would be pissed all over again at the thought of a dead god-husk roaming the earth, but the area seems pretty heavily saturated in ether, and those chains are definitely unbroken.</p>
<p>Whatever. Arglas probably needs a break from all this nonsense, too. Tyrea isn’t going to condemn someone for tossing in their resignation papers when they should’ve retired millennia ago.</p>
<p>Idiotic overachievers.)</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>For all Melia calls Tyrea an advisor, all Tyrea does most of the time is stand around and look threatening. </p>
<p>It’s a universal truth and old-money politicians can’t see a threat with a coat of generously afforded politeness even if it’s parked right in front of their nose, and if there’s one thing Tyrea’s good at, it’s furiously scraping paint off with a hand razor and leaving just enough to spell out a giant <em>COOPERATE OR I’LL KILL YOU.</em></p>
<p>There’s also the fact that most everybody in the court watched Tyrea drag an ancient cult out of the shadows while also being the active head of said ancient cult. The looks everyone gave Melia when she said <em>Tyrea’s my trusted advisor and sister and anyone who questions me or her without first witnessing what we can do and have done can meet us on the other side of the dueling court.</em> That’s all. Just... those looks. Incredible. High art. </p>
<p>So Tyrea stands around and watches Melia’s back as she makes her flowers-and-rainbows coronation speech. No mask, no bonnet, no idiotic formalities. Just good old Melia Antiqua and her flaming, bolt-firing, wind-blasting hands and a lot of pieces to rearrange.</p>
<p>See, while having most of your race destroyed is a pretty nasty experience overall, it does come with the free excuse of necessary unity. When the people are already somewhat united, they like to close their eyes and plug their ears and scream independence as loud as physically possible until their lungs burst. </p>
<p>This is not necessarily that big of a problem. Tyrea finds people bursting their own lungs amusing. Melia sees it happen so often in court she treats it like a weather forecast. </p>
<p>Oh, did Senator Rodron shout himself into an aneurysm over the new sponsorship program? What a shame. Yes, what an awful shame. Do send him a fruit basket. <em>Your majesty, he hates apples.</em> With as many apples as possible. And prepare a bouquet for Senator Vanita; I’m sure she’ll be thrilled with our updated immigration policies tomorrow.</p>
<p>The oldest trick in the book: get your enemies to punch themselves into a coma. Melia plays it so hard they had to rewrite the book and consult her for case studies. An absolute terror, Empress Melia Antiqua.</p>
<p>Case in point: Tyrea’s rounding the corner one afternoon with takeout from Anila’s when she hears a somewhat familiar voice from around said corner. </p>
<p>She stops. Takes a few quiet steps back. Puts all her years of shady work into shameless but invisible eavesdropping. </p>
<p>“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” comes the familiar voice. It sounds completely baffled, which is a common reaction to the general existence that is Melia Antiqua.</p>
<p>“As Empress, it is paramount that I take immediate action against anyone and anything that would harm my people,” Melia says firmly. “If the people can accept someone like me on the throne, they will accept you as long as you accept <em>them</em>. I will make sure of it.”</p>
<p>Oh. Right. Gael’gar.</p>
<p>Huh. That’s a can of worms that nobody ever got to open, since life just sucks sometimes. </p>
<p>“Then you should know what that Bionite Order did to people like us,” Gael’gar says resentfully. “And you chose that woman as your <em>advisor</em>—” </p>
<p>“Tyrea has done quite enough running from her past.” There comes Melia with her five hundred-slide powerpoint about how every single person she knows should have <em>COMPLICATED</em> as their relationship on the affinity chart. “And now, she is done with running. She has chosen to confront the past directly, and now she is looking to the future.”</p>
<p>Gael’gar stews in hostile silence. Which Tyrea has to say is totally justified: she’d also be a little angry if a bunch of shadowy killers tried knifing her every time she did something nonconforming. So that’s all the time.</p>
<p>Overall, being generally murderous toward everyone who doesn’t fit into your narrow worldview is kind of a bad idea. Tyrea feels bad about being part of that nasty kids club, but right beside her is Gael’gar. </p>
<p>Yeah. It’s a little awkward.</p>
<p>Melia sighs. Not her disappointed, tired sigh. Just a tired one. “I cannot possibly presume what you have gone through, Gael’gar. Similarly, you cannot possibly presume what others have gone through. Your life has been unjustly difficult. But you cannot decide that everyone who so much as resembles the people who hurt you deserve your wrath and your contempt. I will tell you this: I cannot decide your actions for you, nor can I ask you to forgive those who have wronged you, but I can offer you a trial position on the royal guard.”</p>
<p>That... is probably not the wisest choice, given how slash-happy Gael’gar was last time. And yeah, Tyrea will be honest: she isn’t letting the guy anywhere near Teelan without supervision.</p>
<p>Melia is a lot of things. Reasonable is not usually one of them. Crazy, on the other hand? </p>
<p>Well. At least Tyrea knows how to handle crazy.</p>
<p>“You’ll sow discord among your ranks,” Gael’gar says cautiously. “Are you not afraid of the consequences?”</p>
<p>“I demand the same level of competence from all my soldiers,” is Melia’s perfectly calm response. “Anyone who instigates violence will deal with me personally, whether it happens to be you or anyone else. We are all equals. We die all the same, I can tell you that, so there is no reason we should not enjoy the same freedom. If anyone has a problem with your mixed heritage in particular, you can always ask if they would be willing to direct their words to <em>me</em>. I have little patience for those with infinite pride to spare and no empathy, Gael’gar. You are not exempt. Nobody is.”</p>
<p>Gael’gar is either completely stunned or completely lost, because he doesn’t let out so much as a peep.</p>
<p>“You won’t be the only one with mixed blood, I can tell you that,” Melia says, ready to pull the details of the job package out of her sleeves. “Frankly, I believe the existing guard needs a drastic overhaul. There are some Homs in Colony 6 that are terrifically skilled with ether rifles, not to mention the general entity that is the Ponspectors. If any of the Machina are interested, I’ll certainly extend an interview. I ask that you think over the offer, Gael’gar. Times are changing. And if the world refuses to budge, I will make it.”</p>
<p>With the entirety of that speech concluded, Melia directs Gael’gar to the entrance hall. Then she rounds the corner with a very unimpressed look. </p>
<p>Tyrea tries not to look too guilty. “Hi,” she says. “Had a nice talk?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Melia says, snatching the takeout bag from Tyrea’s hands. She ignores the offended <em>hey!</em> in favour of marching down the hall with renewed fervour. “I don’t have the time to go around bolting individual racists. Tyrea?”</p>
<p>“…You want me to bolt racists for you?”</p>
<p>“No! Well—maybe, but not now! Those drafts we were discussing—the ones about the Bionite Order?”</p>
<p>That makes more sense, but only by a little. “You want the full rundown of the backasswards logic we used to initiate new members, I assume.”</p>
<p>“You assume correctly.” A deep-fried cheesy fry meets a violent end. Melia continues speaking while chewing. “We’re going to need to revamp the justice system, and every existing education curriculum, and the job market, and the housing market, and—” </p>
<p>“We got started on it once,” Tyrea points out, before Melia can either eat the entire paper bag or hurl it out the nearest window. “We know how to run this show, Melia.”</p>
<p>Melia huffs. “Yes, but now I want to do it <em>faster</em>.”</p>
<p>Fair. Also insane. But fair. “Then I’m all for it. You want to bring in those maniacs from the Homs colonies to help you out? They’re hilariously good at shocking people into doing whatever they say. And—don’t give me that dopey smile, Melia! You stole my lunch!”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Rebuilding’s one thing, but restructuring is another. Having Shulk around to offer his Homs perspective while also politely suggesting that the High Entia try looking around and using their eyeballs to see they’re not alone in the world is infinitely useful. Having Kallian repeat the exact same speech but without all the politeness is a circus act. </p>
<p>Tyrea doesn’t even bother to try and keep a straight face. She laughs when Kallian starts individually roasting the uber-conservative members of the court, and she laughs harder when those uber-conservative members make silent, desperate pleas with their eyes to not-Emperor Sorean, who kind of shrugs. </p>
<p>Melia just stands there with a faint smile, like there isn’t anywhere else she would rather be than wrangling the court into shape while Kallian cracks the whip and not-Emperor Sorean babysits. </p>
<p>And speaking of Kallian, that man certainly has a brutally effective “are you insane?” followed by a minimum of fifteen specific examples of exactly how they’re insane.</p>
<p>Tyrea seriously needs to take Kallian out for drinks with the rest of their cheery group. She can only hope that he gets even more amped up when he’s plastered.</p>
<p>But before anyone can start throwing down the really fun ideas (the formation of the Bionis-Mechonis Coalition, the Mainland-Shoulder Trade Network, the Coalition Intelligence Agency, the Shoulder fast-travel network, more ether accelerators because clearly everyone should carry one around in their pants), the ground has to be surveyed and set. </p>
<p>Alcamoth has a glaring problem, and that’s its tendency to float high and far from literally everything else while pretending that nothing’s down below. Because that worked out so well last time. Unfortunately, hindsight’s only effective if you can see it. Alright, cool. </p>
<p>Alcamoth doesn’t want to see the world? Then the entire world’s climbing up to see Alcamoth. </p>
<p>When Melia declares two weeks later that she’s going on another field trip, this time for political reasons, Kallian filters out the political part and stares at Melia in a way that implies he thinks she might be a little broken. Which she is, but Kallian doesn’t know that. </p>
<p><em>Yet.</em> That man is weirdly insightful. Tyrea would’ve been jealous of his emotional intelligence if it wasn’t entirely counterproductive to her job.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry,” Tyrea tells Kallian, who finally shifts his judging gaze away from Melia. “Shulk’s coming as well. You think the people of Alcamoth are the only ones who needed the situation explained? Then you should see how Colony 9 reacts.”</p>
<p>“You really don’t want to,” Shulk says miserably, clutching his Monado close to his chest. “Dunban’s going to be so disappointed. Reyn’s going to hug me so hard my spine breaks. Fiora’s going to <em>kill</em> me.”</p>
<p>“That sounds like a you problem,” Tyrea points out. Shulk whimpers.</p>
<p>Kallian looks upward as if praying for patience. “<em>Fine.</em> Alright. But promise me that you won’t blow up anything large and important this time.”</p>
<p>Would you look at that: Kallian’s already accepted that something or another is inevitably going to explode! He might just make it.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>“Did we ever find out what happened to Dickson?” Tyrea asks one morning as they’re trudging their way through what’s probably Makna Forest, going by the tank-sized worms and the terrified dinosaurs. (Of Melia. Giant dinosaurs, terrified of Melia. Giant, apex predator dinosaurs, terrified of Melia and anything remotely round, yellow, and fuzzy. The world really is broken.) “A trinity isn’t exactly a trinity if there aren’t three people. So?”</p>
<p>Melia levels a very careful look in Shulk’s direction. </p>
<p>Shulk heaves a deep sigh. “To be honest? I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know. It’s all just... whatever. We can take him.”</p>
<p>So many worrying implications in very few words! Wonderful!</p>
<p>“There’s also Mumkhar,” Melia says worriedly. “He can’t cause any damage on his own given how sad and weak he is, but we’ll have to ask Egil about the Faced Mechon.”</p>
<p><em>And that should be a disaster of a conversation</em> goes unsaid, because everyone here is perfectly aware of how awkward it is to try and ask someone who isn’t inherently evil about all the evil things they’ve done.</p>
<p>Joy. Tyrea demands higher hazard pay.</p>
<p>She keeps her thoughts to herself, mostly because she doesn’t want Shulk to start punching a tree while screaming into the void, and also because if Melia managed to melee Lorithia to death, then Dickson will probably keel over and die to one earth discharge. </p>
<p>And regardless, at the end of all worlds, even once the world’s been shoved into a food processor and spat out, Topple-Locking always works. Always.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Melia makes a beeline for the Archeology Centre as soon as Frontier Village comes into view. </p>
<p>In the back of her mind, she vaguely processes the miracle that allowed the entire tree to remain upright, the ecosystem to have mostly survived the abrupt divine housecleaning party, and the Deinos Sauros to still be terrified of anything Nopon-shaped.</p>
<p>Wunwun gleefully accepts another bag of gold, then excitedly introduces them to a confused but otherwise jovial Chief Dunga.</p>
<p>Melia hugs Chief Dunga. Shulk spits out his Dark Mango juice and tries not to look too embarrassed about it. Tyrea laughs openly and is very mean about it. The Nopon immediately love Tyrea for a completely unrelated reason, and possibly because she looks like she’d consider stoning someone to death entertaining.</p>
<p>She continues laughing when they march up to Riki’s house and kindly ask Oka if she’d be willing to let her lovely husband travel a little every now and then, because the position comes with quite a generous salary, and the title of Royal Trade Caravan Protector isn’t a terrible substitute for Heropon. It’s... longer, indeed, by quite a bit, but Riki is a being made of happiness and magic that can turn any title into a compliment. </p>
<p>Riki proves this by warming up to everyone, Tyrea included, immediately after their introductions. </p>
<p>“Riki very excited to work with Miss Melly and friends!” he declares, so genuine and Riki-like that Melia spends the next hour crying into his fur. Then Kino and Nene waddle out from the house, and Shulk desperately pretends like he isn’t crying as well. </p>
<p>Tyrea stares at them like it’s a miracle they’re alive at all.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Shulk volunteers to take a peek around Colony 6, given that he’s the only person who doesn’t actively look like a potential threat. </p>
<p>Colony 6 is... a little trigger-happy, which isn’t particularly surprising upon checking the life expectancy. To put it simply: it is <em>grim</em>. Still, most people can recognize <em>trigger-happy</em> and <em>giant ether cannons mounted on every wall in every direction</em> as a somewhat worrying combination. </p>
<p>Colony 6 knows this. They respond to any and all complaints by gesturing pointedly to the Mechon debris in their front yard and their weekly casualty report, which at this point looks like a tally of all their inhabitants. So… not great. </p>
<p>But all that high-strung, shoot-them-they-don’t-look-Homs doesn’t bode well for anyone who—well, doesn’t look like a Homs. Say, for example, if you have wings growing out of your head. Or if you look like a slightly more organic Mechon.</p>
<p>They’ll have to work on that. </p>
<p>Shulk understands! He really does. He, for one, would love to poke around inside those ether cannons. But then he’d get asked a bunch of uncomfortable questions, like <em>why are you dressed like a tomb robber</em> and <em>do you have any last words</em>, and maybe also shot. So he settles for throwing on a travelling cloak, keeping his head low, and making for the front gate.</p>
<p>Turns out things in Colony 6 are also pretty hectic, with most of the residents walking around in confused circles like an automatic room cleaner that’s realized all of existence is garbage, which is a statement that can be applied to basically anywhere at the moment. Shulk sneaks in without anyone so much as questioning him (probably because they’re busy questioning themselves, their worldview, and the world at large), and then he makes for the Defense Force barracks.</p>
<p>He finds Sharla in record time. Specifically, he hears ether rifle shots from across the barracks, and then cautiously makes his way to the training grounds. </p>
<p>And... Sharla looks pretty happy, albeit vaguely confused at everything. Juju is a lot more vocal about being flabbergasted at everything and anything in existence, all of which is adding up to be a pretty great philosophical crisis.</p>
<p>Shulk stops. Takes a few careful steps back. Retreats to find a pen and paper. Quickly puts together something resembling comprehensible language. Posts it on the corkboard in the communal kitchen. </p>
<p>Later, when he tells Tyrea and Melia what he left as a note, they both give him such long-suffering stares that Shulk immediately regrets living at all. But if he digs a deep hole and buries himself alive, Tyrea would dig him out, Melia would yell at him for hours, and Fiora would yell at him <em>forever.</em></p>
<p>Life is so unfair. This does not come as a surprise. Shulk feels every single thing that has happened to himself and everyone around him affords him at least the right to complain loudly about this while drunk.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>dear sharla,</p>
<p>you’re awesome and super scary with an ether rifle. would you be interested in joining our super awesome cool kids club (bionis-mechonis coalition)? it’s super cool we promise. love you</p>
<p>— shulk</p>
<p>p.s. the ink stamp is the high entia royal seal please forward all inquiries to empress melia antiqua or her advisor tyrea</p>
<p>p.s.s. no pressure though please live your own life first</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Melia watches with both alarm and amusement as Shulk is tackled into the lake by a very excited and very concerned Reyn. </p>
<p>Fiora jumps in after them upon realizing that no, Shulk has not, in fact, grown a single braincell even after fleeing from home in the middle of the night and disappearing into the vast unknown, all while the world snapped in half around them like a brittle digestive biscuit.</p>
<p>She feels vindicated in her decision to watch from the sidelines when Dunban approaches both her and Tyrea with an even smile and a single brow raised. “You two are Shulk’s travelling companions, I assume?”</p>
<p>“You assume correctly,” says Melia.</p>
<p>“Ah. Well, I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble.”</p>
<p>“None at all. His company was greatly appreciated.”</p>
<p>With the pleasantries quickly shoved out of the way, Dunban moves onto a more direct, “Might I ask what the result of your adventures was?” with the <em>ask</em> sounding a lot more like <em>confirm</em>. He’s always been sharp, both with and without a sword, which is an excellent reason for him to take on the mantle as Colony 9 Representative on the Coalition. </p>
<p>Tyrea snorts unhelpfully. “You think the world getting tossed in the washing machine was an accident?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Tyrea, thank you so much for your input. To reword, the natural procession of time suffered a massive cardiac event and threw up a couple of us backward, and we thought it prudent to prevent the imminent disaster that would be that particular spectacle by killing the god who would initiate it all.”</p>
<p>Dunban studies at both of them. His expression valiantly does not change when he comes to the unfortunate conclusion that they’re entirely serious. “I see,” he says instead. A brave man, that Dunban. “I’ll assume that’s why Dickson took off so quickly a few weeks back.”</p>
<p>“A very interesting topic,” Melia assures him, not wanting to think about those repercussions at all. “Would you like a position on the Bionis-Mechonis Coalition as spokesperson and representative for Colony 9?”</p>
<p>Tyrea has the social awareness not to immediately slap a hand over Melia’s mouth and drag her somewhere quiet to yell at her. Instead, Tyrea heaves a deep sigh and says, “Ignore her. She’s a little touched in the head.”</p>
<p>“We’re all touched in the head,” Melia points out. “And I’m a very good judge of character, I’ll have you know.”</p>
<p>“Okay, fine—and no, you are <em>not</em> a good judge of character. That’s why I’m here. That’s my literal job! I judge the characters; you toss them in the bin.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m a very good judge of this particular character.”</p>
<p>“No,” Tyrea says firmly. Then she turns to Dunban and shoves a High Entia royal seal into his hands. “Keep that. When your stupid people start making a mess of things and screaming about the floating city in the sky, climb up and we’ll iron things out. Shut <em>up</em>, Melia,” she snaps, when Melia tries to ask how long it’ll take for scheduling purposes.</p>
<p>Melia’s about to start on how rude and unappreciative Tyrea is, but it seems Fiora’s just about done hauling Reyn and Shulk out of the river and onto the grass. </p>
<p>It also seems like she’s preparing to let loose and chronicle every single one of Shulk’s inadvisable decisions in chronological order, and it also seems like she’s currently equipped with hunting knives. And for all the world of politics loves to double-fry itself in coal dust and gasoline then leap headlong into the flames, Melia’s not about to miss <em>that</em> show.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Shulk approximates another ten days off the useful life expectancy of his ears as Fiora returns to her usual volume.</p>
<p>She looks appropriately furious. And concerned. And Reyn’s adopted the same look, so it’s effectively two against one. To make matters worse, Melia, Tyrea, and Dunban are all watching on with morbid curiosity (or just unabashed glee if you’re Tyrea) from a few paces away, which further supports the theory that the universe will always be against Shulk no matter who runs the show.</p>
<p>This is so unfair. Shulk can’t even hold his own against <em>one</em> of them. He can’t even carefully maneuver around some of the more worrying details since Melia will immediately fill them in, and he can’t play things down either, since Tyrea will immediately call him out. </p>
<p>Not to mention Fiora’s lethal, wholesome demeanor and Reyn’s overwhelmingly determined support. What was the phrase Tyrea likes to use again? Something, something, crockpot of despair?</p>
<p>“Shulk,” Fiora says, anger-concern shading into only concern, “what happened?”</p>
<p>Shulk stares. Looks over to Melia and Tyrea. Receives a pair of <em>ha ha well at least the ground isn’t a toxic cesspool!</em> sort of nods.</p>
<p>There is absolutely no way things could get any weirder than they already are.</p>
<p>Shulk takes solace in this fact. </p>
<p>Then he begins regaling a story that will hopefully get all three of them immediately rocketed to therapy, because he feels that specific aspect of their character growth has been severely overlooked, and if people are going to throw worried frowns at them wherever they go, at least one of those frowns deserves to be from a professional.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Tyrea isn’t exactly sure <em>what on Bionis is going on. </em></p>
<p>She figures she can’t be the only person this confused, because if she is, so many windows are going to break. So many.</p>
<p>She tests the cavern walls with her knives. Doesn’t seem particularly beachy, which means this is probably Tephra Cave, which means godawful lizards, and godawful unexplainable time travel shenanigans. </p>
<p>Yeah. Tyrea knows <em>exactly</em> what waking up in the middle of some random cave with her old mask firmly planted on her cheekbones means. Shulk’s an idiot, but he knows his universe-rending bullshit. </p>
<p>So it’s something of a relief to find Shulk cautiously tiptoeing around the bend, a giant glass slab and a neon blue sword strapped to his back, looking temporally displaced as any unwilling time traveller.</p>
<p>They both stare at each other for a very long time. </p>
<p>In her head, Tyrea thinks: Melia had better be in this mess as well, or else I’m going to break through spacetime myself and <em>drag her here.</em></p>
<p>Unfortunate. Stupid, convoluted, and unfortunate. All adjectives that Tyrea makes her stupid, convoluted, and unfortunate living in.</p>
<p>But hey: clocking overtime all the time and watching the world awkwardly stretch into a new set of clothes consisting of Melia’s nonsense and Shulk’s explosions has made Tyrea fully confident in her abilities to sort out this disaster without having the world implode in the process. </p>
<p>It probably can’t get any worse than Tyrea’s entire life leading up to this point. If Shulk and Melia insist on tagging along on this joyride, then so be it. </p>
<p>Tyrea takes a deep breath and steels herself.</p>
<p>“You’re <em>late</em>.”</p></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(clambers out of the burning wreckage that is canon) why, hello there, traveler! i didn't see you there. make yourself comfortable on any of the... assorted debris around you. you're in for an interesting time.</p>
<p>but really, thank you so much for reading! it was really satisfying to finally get out a fic that fits my typical writing style (total unhinged chaos) for xenoblade. who knows? i might even write something else with this style. if you've stuck around this long, i love you, and i will battle to the death for your honour. i can't take a lot of things seriously, but i certainly appreciate you! </p>
<p>feel free to talk to me at my <a href="https://twitter.com/novalotypo">twitter</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>